“The Children Regularly Test My Progress”

Mrs Moore has my sympathy and my envy. Her examiners only see her at school. Mine live here.

In January I started Welsh on an app, for reasons involving my mother-in-law, her 412-day streak and a Christmas card I could not read. Within a week the youngest, Felix, seven, had appointed himself chief examiner. He does not speak Welsh. This has not slowed him down. He holds up my phone, reads the English aloud in a slow, loud voice, and waits.

The school’s side of things is formidable. Its Criw Cymraeg, a pupil team, exists to encourage the social use of Welsh in school, on the playground and in the community. Its members lead Welsh yard games. They helped set up Caban Clonc, a hut in the school yard for chatting, discussing and reading in Welsh. The aim is for everyone, visitors included, to feel happy and confident having a go. I read all this and felt confident. It lasted until breakfast.

By February Felix was testing me at breakfast, in the car and through the bathroom door. Our daughter introduced points. The eldest drew up a leaderboard for the fridge. I came second of two, behind the dog, who had been entered on the grounds that she sits when you say “eistedd”.

In March I finished the first unit. I announced it at dinner in Welsh, a full sentence, with the weather in it. Felix listened carefully, asked what it meant, and awarded me a sticker from the dog’s puppy-class certificate. It says Good Sit. It is on my laptop.