Or if I were feeling lyrical that day, I might write,
“It is a curious truth that grasshoppers have their hearing-organs in the sides of the abdomen.”
“Your daughter Vanessa, judging by what she's learnt this term, has no hearing-organs at all.”
I might even delve deeper into natural history and say,
“The periodical cicada spends six years as a grub underground, and no more than six days as a free creature of sunlight and air.”
“Your son Wilfred has spent six years as a grub in this school and we are still waiting for him to emerge from the chrysalis.”
A particularly poisonous little girl might sting me into saying,
“Fiona has the same glacial beauty as an iceberg, but unlike the iceberg she has absolutely nothing below the surface.”
I think I might enjoy writing end-of-term reports for the stinkers in my class.
But enough of that. We have to get on. Occasionally one comes across parents who take the opposite line,
who show no interest at all in their children, and these of course are far worse than the doting ones.
Mr and Mrs Wormwood were two such parents. They had a son called Michael and a daughter called Matilda,
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