LETTERS FROM LOCKDOWN
Music to my ears At last, I have discovered the secret to making your hyperactive child to go to sleep
Top tip if your children are struggling to get to sleep just now. Before bedtime, hold a living room disco.
It’s very simple. Just blast out the most hyperactive pop you can find, and let the little beasts dance themselves unconscious. My son – who during lockdown has renounced all other forms of exercise – absolutely loves it.
The most effective genre for sleepless children is ska, because it’s so manically upbeat. House of Fun by Madness, for example. My son recently declared this song his all-time favourite piece of music, displacing a video from Youtube of some cartoon dogs barking to the tune of the can-can.
He finds the discos so exciting that he refuses to go to bed, and protests indignantly at being seized and carried upstairs.
With each step, however, the volume of the protest diminishes, and by the landing, he’s out like a light.
On my street we’re all still clapping away every Thursday. Our enthusiasm is undimmed, and our gratitude to carers stronger than ever. Privately, though, I’ve become troubled by an awkward thought.
When, and how, do we stop?
Some families might be wary of stopping unilaterally, for fear of what
their neighbours will think. So ideally what we’ll need is an announcement from the Government, declaring an official end to the clapping, or at least signalling that it’s acceptable to stop. It seems doubtful, however, that the Government would dare make such an announcement.
As political slogans go, “Let’s stop applauding our brave nurses” is unlikely to prove as popular as “Take back control” or “Get Brexit done”.
In which case, it’s possible we’ll go on clapping indefinitely – not stopping even after the crisis is over. Perhaps centuries from now, British families will still be gathering solemnly on their doorsteps each Thursday to enact this mysterious ancient ritual, its origins lost in the mists of time, but honoured none the less, out of duty to tradition. I’ve just been struck by a terrifying realisation. Next week is half-term.
Term-time’s been tiring enough. A holiday would be exhausting
What on earth am I going to do?
Home-schooling isn’t easy. But at least it gives the boy something to do all day. Next week, he won’t be able to do any of the things he’d normally do during this break. Can’t see his friends or cousins, can’t go on a family holiday, can’t be taken on day trips. Even the playgrounds are still chained up.
A whole week unoccupied indoors will be a nightmare. He’ll explode. The house will look as if the Tasmanian Devil has hit it.
Only thing for it: don’t tell him it’s half-term. Make him stick to the usual timetable. Load him down with sums and phonics. Fifteen spelling tests a day.
Term-time’s been tiring enough. A holiday would be exhausting.