That old chestnut: A poem about fickle friendship

And then there's that old chestnut: 'So and so says they don't like me anymore.' 

I suppose it shouldn't be dismissed, but neither should it be of too much concern. 



The morning that she broke her heart, Esme relayed how her good pal didn't want to be friends anymore. 

Oh how she sobbed in my lap. 

And then reluctantly went to school.

Of course I spent the entire time worried sick, and couldn't wait for 3pm to roll around. 

Man, that day dragged.

Eventually pick up came.

I stood there anticipating the pale faced sad child that I'd left hours earlier.

But wait, there she was, with, yes, that friend, and oh. What's that?

They're skipping out the door together.

Hand in hand.


This event took place a year ago when Esme was a few weeks into reception, but this post was written in lieu of what Esme has been going through at school recently. You can read about that here.