Going to High School: the Tie That's a Bind

One and Three watching telly

It's a medium sized day at the Palace of Bundance today.
Boy Three is two. He celebrated the fact by regurgitating his bottle of milk all over me and the bed. Happy Barfday little one. Boys One and Two think we're being a bit mean not having a party and huge piles of gifts. But the fact is he doesn't really understand birthdays although he does know they have something to do with cake. When everyone comes home from school, work and nursery this afternoon there will be cake and there will be a toy kitchen for our littlest, and most enthusiastic, cook.
Boy One goes to his new high school for the first of three induction days. He's very excited about the move. We've had meetings, assessments and visits. I'm fairly confident he'll get the support he needs but I'm also fairly confident he hasn't a clue what's going to hit him.
Today he had to wear a smart white shirt and his school tie. By 7am the tie was found so things were looking good. Then, while I was in the shower washing off his brother's barf, Boy One decided this was the time I should be doing the tie thing. We talked it through and he'd mostly got it. All it needed was for him to make sure the tie was seam side down and that he didn't yank it out of shape.
But by 8am the tie still wasn't right and getting worse - he wouldn't let me help. I tried to point out that just wearing a tie if it's tied all wrong is about as bad as not wearing a tie. Yes, there is a right way and it's not just me who says so. There are many things I'm all for free expression on, but tie tying isn't one.
By 8.15 I was a bad parent who didn't understand and there was door slamming (not so effective with a sliding door) and he hated me.
By 8.20 he's off to the bus. "Love you mummy."
Sigh.
Meanwhile, Boy Two who sees an opportunity to gain ground between the vomiting and the hormones has been helping me decorate my bra for Saturday's Moonwalk. He's done a splendid job, but there is something odd about watching your middle son gluing pompoms onto a bra cup that is held in shape by a boxing glove.