"Results day? Nah, I'm not worried. It's up to him/her. I'm not one of those parents," you announce, wondering why sleep wandered around your bedroom like a pushed ball of mercury and your Coco Pops strangely taste like you captured that ball in your dreams and shoved it in your mouth.
People will be full of advice. Older, wiser parents, people who got good results, people who got bad results, people who are too old or young to have ever taken any exams will all say that it doesn't matter. Jeremy Clarkson will appear on Twitter telling you that he failed everything but still managed to drive fast cars.
I have no advice.
It's going to be a roller coaster of a day. You will feel sick. You will feel helpless. You will feel conflicted. You will feel excited or sad or even both. You will feel proud, ashamed or both.
Parents, they are not your results but you feel like they are. You were there through the pen-throwing tantrums and the tearful meltdowns. You nagged. Oh, boy, did you nag. You made sure that they did the best they could.
I know that you are scared that if they don't do as well as they should it will have somehow been your fault. I'm not going to tell you it wasn't. Of course it was. They have your genetic make up, after all. Somewhere down the line you must ultimately take responsibility, so just suck it up. Guilt is in the parent's contract and nothing I say about a child leading their own life is going to make any difference.
I also know that you are scared they might do much better than expected. You won't tell anyone this because it is a childish and selfish thought but what if they really are much cleverer than you? What if they do really well and all your friend's children bomb?
I just want to say 'good luck' to all parents who are waiting today and leave you with Maureen Lipman who, even though she's just a grandma seems to capture the conflict perfectly.
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