School concert night. All boys looking immaculate (well, all bar my son, see previous post) in their white shirts and ties, instruments and long socks.

I saw a little face among the others, singing along. The teacher was playing the piano.

I had never realised Pest n.1 had such a good voice. I try to keep a grip on reality, my children and their lives, their achievements and their needs, but this detail had obviously escaped my attention.

How could I have missed it? Does he not sing in the shower? Or before going to bed? Does he not hum the tunes to himself when he is playing?

Does my failure to spot his little gift make me self-obsessed and indifferent to my sons' growth?

'Your son has a super little voice', the teacher said to me after the concert.

I smiled the uneasy smile of somebody caught stealing an apple, a morsel of it already in their mouth.

Guilt.

I am eating it.