Vigorously, I slam the car door shut and run in the direction of the nursery. I notice the pulsating arteries on my neck. My thoughts are still in the last meeting. A man in front of me dodges my military stride and turns around abruptly. He examines me. The heels of my pumps make a loud clicking sound in the rhythm of my pulsating arteries as I am heading for the glass door of the multi-coloured house with tunnel vision.
Secretly I try to hide the cookies I just bought under the handmade ones on the plate. I feel like being in a parallel world.
I have barely opened the door when he´s already rushing at me. “Mummy, where were you?” he asks. The apprentice in this room throws a disgusted glance at me. “He was the last one” she whispers while passing me by. I give my son a hug, holding him very tightly. Together, we go in the direction of the Christmas songs. Just as we arrive, the official programme starts. A carer opens the party with a guitar song, to which the kids sing “Suzy Snowflake”. The mums and the few daddies start to sing along. I kneel down with my son in the crowd and and try to keep up with the role-model-mums. After the chorus I unfortunately run out of text. I realise that the song leaflets were already lying in the entrance area for weeks. It seems that I am the only one who didn´t manage to learn all the songs by heart until now. I am humming over the missing lyrics.
I feel more and more uneasy and in the wrong place here.
“You´re the best mummy in the world“ he says with shining eyes.
Screw bad conscience!