Glee

Football is a relatively new interest for The Boy, but it is becoming a passionate one.  We have passed the lucky dip performed by my male friends to see "who he would support" held whilst I was pregnant with him, which saw the poor swine encased in a Charlton Athletic babygrow (oh, thank you so much Uncle Jason). 

He has now made a decision as to the team for him, and it is West Ham. Suggestions that I nudged him in that direction by pointing out that they have blue on their kit are entirely, er, true.  We will ignore the fact that I did the patented Wiltshire Chocolate Dance (TM) on receiving this news, and sadly I can neither confirm nor deny that I danced up to Himself shouting "in your face!" before letting fly what can only be described as an "interesting" smell from my bottom regions.

Needless to say, The Boy has chosen (and he is well aware that West Ham lose a lot, which is one of the reasons I hoped he would choose them, though as we all know, West Ham picks you rather than the other way around), and he has chosen well. 

The tricky part of not being skilled at football whilst expecting himself to be the best player that walked the earth is one that needs to addressed. Still, he has a passion, he loves the team, he appreaciates that they do not always win but that they always try (though doubtless there will be those amongst us who would dispute that whilst attamepting to ram their season tickets up Gold and Sullivan's posteriors).  We have attended one of those small people football classes only to find that many of the parents don't see it as a way of introducing their children to something they love but as a way of showcasing their Mini Pele.

Last Wednesday, The Boy proudly presented me with two forms for after school clubs.


The first was for Football Club which, if you've managed to read this far, you'll know is a much coveted activity by The Boy, who would like to (if possible) exchange his current primary school for Football School.

The second was for Singing Club.

I has assumed that he would want to go to Football Club, but he delighted me by telling me he wanted to go to Singing Club, because "Paul (the football teacher) takes football too seriously so it isn't fun anymore. Anyway, I like singing. And there'll be lots of girls at singing, so it'll be better."
 
I was ridculously happy, esepcially as there is are studies showing that children with autism can benefit greatly from singing and playing musical instruments.  I duly signed him up for Singing Club. 
 
When I went to collect him yesterday, I was told that there was a problem, and that he may not be able to continue at the club. 
 
My heart sank as I expected to be told that he had had some sort of meltdown or display of aggressive behaviour related to his autism.  This was not his case.
 
His heinous act had been to not sing all the songs and to look out of the window.  Once I had finished laughing in her face, I merely raised my eyebrows and walked away.
 
Clearly it was a mistake on my part.  I had thought that this was a club where participants joined because they love music and enjoy singing. I am obviously incorrect.
 
Which one of us is going to tell her that these are a group of primary school children and not "Glee : The New Generation"?