Who is your secret crush?
Posted Monday 19th May 2014 By Ericka Waller
Some people have a crush on Ryan Gosling, or George Clooney. Not me, I have a crush on the reception teacher at my daughter’s school. She is amazing. She has this voice which just blows me away. It stops kids in their tracks like they’ve been shot with a stun gun. I’ve never seen anything like it.
When Thing-One was in Reception, I found myself rushing (knocking women and children flying) to get to the gate first, hoping for a whiff of her. I’d sniff to work out what shampoo she used, body lotion, anything. What was this secret concoction of amazing that she wore? For a while I sort of forgot about her because Thing-One’s Year One teacher also has it going on… but it’s not the same. She doesn’t make me feel the way the reception teacher did.
Thing-two is due to start school in September, so my crush is coming back full force. I’ve become a bit obsessed with her. Down here in Brighton it’s all Cornish-pasty shaped shoes and smocks with mirrors hanging off it. Sometimes she looks pregnant under all the fabric. Obviously this is the worst thing that could ever happen to me.
I was so preoccupied checking her out as she stooped to stop a boy removing his trousers in assembly, I almost missed Thing-one getting her maths certificate. I waved brightly, but my camera was on someone else.
I wonder how weird she would think me if I asked her to dress a bit sexier. Get out the Lycra, let me see her body shape a bit better. Stop these crazy mind games she is playing. My friend Liz laughed when I asked her, and then of course someone asked what was so funny (amidst a passionate recital about man’s destruction of the rainforest) and before I knew it, a game of Chinese whispers about me, Mrs B, and our secret love child went racing down the bleachers.
“I always thought she was a lesbian”, I heard one of the mums saying, looking down to where I sat. Another winked at me. I was ridiculously flattered. I don’t care what they say about us. She rocks my world. She is the kind of woman Beyonce sings about.
I dream of the day Thing-two comes home and tells me weeing on the floor is for babies, and play-doh is more fun to play with than eat. I know she can make things happen and more. She can do anything.