I slam the computer closed and make my way down to Isla’s classroom. She’s sitting on the floor in the hall, doodling so intently that she doesn’t notice me approaching until I’m practically right on top of her.
“Hi, honey,” I say softly.
She nearly jumps out of her skin. “Oh! Hi, Mom.”
“Would you mind sitting out here for a few minutes?” I ask. “I just wanted to have a quick word with Ms. Roe.”
Isla looks immediately nervous. “Why?”
“Just boring work stuff,” I tell her, getting increasingly concerned about the rate at which I’m lying to my nine-year-old. In the grand scheme of things, though, one small white lie won’t stunt her growth or anything. At least, I don’t think it will. “I won’t be long, okay?”
She nods uncertainly and goes back to her drawing.
When I enter her classroom,
