And if I was Pom Pom I would have had my camera to capture the magical door in the base of the ancient tree where the faeries went to tell the leprachauns that St Patrick's Day is nearly upon us again and plans must be made!
If I was Theresa I would be able to take a decent photograph of beauty, one worthy of her beauty and talent and generosity, and I would be able to express even close to adequately how very much I love this precious tile that crossed the Atlantic last week, alone and whole.
And if his was any other teacher I wouldn't have at all allowed us to be starting homework so late tonight. I wouldn't have kept the music on and let us lounge around on the floor. I wouldn't have left Mattman doing writing exercises from three years ago. But because she is his teacher I knew that a year of weeping and testing and worry has passed and that the suspected special one is really quite, quite ordinary. And I rejoiced instead of failing when I heard myself tell him that yes, he could do more Maths after supper.
So I'll rejoice instead of failing despite the fact that I haven't greatified since November, despite the fact that I am no Ann, and if you'd like to rejoice with these less tearful strawberries leave a word and we'll giveaway to a lucky chosen one a copy of Mattman's favourite book. Which is also a celebration of my being one third of the way through my target thousand!