He started school, in Dublin, when he was four. So confident, eager to start. He loved his teacher - she replaced me as the centre of his world, if only for five hours a day. He relished homework.
Then when we moved to the UK, he made a seamless transition to his new school, loving how new and different it all was, immediately falling in love, yet again, with his teacher.
And as he passed through, year after year, he always did well. Always tried his best. Always was pleasant and polite. Always was the best that he could be. And I've always been proud of him.
He's no angel, don't get me wrong. What kid is? He can be impossible to live with. He is an impossible know-it-all. And incredibly cocky. But it turns out he had reason to be.
When he finally decided to text me and put me out of my misery, it turns out he had done as well as he said he would. He did very well indeed.
Next is his A levels. Watch this space!
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