"CAN I talk to you?” my son's teacher asked.
The question no parent wants to be asked. Ever.
I nervously agreed, ready to be told the time and location of said meeting.
She came up close and said: "I've banned the fidget spinners.”
As she spoke, she reached into her pocket and fanned out several fidget spinners for me to see.
They were white, pink, neon green, blue - a rainbow of distracting terrorisers. My son's teacher's worst nightmare had spent the day hanging still in the bottom of her dark pocket.
"Any of these belong to you?” she asked me as the school bell rang.
I nervously surveyed the collection. "No”.
"Right,” she raised her eyebrow, "must be in my drawer, then.”
Before I tell you where my son's fidget spinner currently resides, let me set the scene.
It's been exactly a week since the whispers at the school gates grew into screams across the playground.
Parents and children were eagerly asking: do you have a fidget spinner? Where did you get it? How many did the shop have left? What time did you leave the shop? Do you think the shop would be sold out by now? If I left here now, how long do you think before I could get there? If they have any left, do you want one?
The determination and passion from the parents was as strong as the fad itself. The Parents and Carers Committee had never moved so swiftly. The collective people power was other-worldly as they sourced any and every fidget spinner within a 20km radius.
Found! Buy! Win!
Oh, the sense of relief at gaining access to this rare commodity was felt among all the fellow parents.
Finally, my work, as a parent, had been completed for the term. Tick.
And then, of course, there were the kids.
Toys? Devices? Learning tools?
Originally, the fidget spinner was considered a type of stress-relieving device for children with learning difficulties. Some educators believe they're a key to avoid distraction. Some believe the opposite.
Early this week, one flurried through our house.
It remains a mystery as to what it does, but there's no mystery surrounding the reason why we have one.
Because everyone else does.
It's taken my seven-year-old son double the amount of time to get anything done this week. If I had a fidget spinner for every time I asked/shouted/yelled: "brush your teeth” or "put your shoes on”, I'd be a millionaire.
Almost as rich as Mr Fidget Spinner.
This fad has been spinning out of control in our local neighbourhood for about two weeks now.
But thank the Lord of Fads, it came to an end with our generous, switched-on teacher.
The fidget spinner has quietly moved to my very own drawer. It sits in the dark. Not spinning. Still.
A little Mother's Day present to myself.
Until Monday, when I'm sure we'll enter a world of bottle-flipping, footy cards and elastics.
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