When I sit at my computer and think about blogging, there is so much going on and it's all in such a complicated jumble in my mind that I can't think where to start, hence the blank week. Not that any of it is particularly major, but tiredness and too-much-to-do just get on top of me.

On the HE front, Tamsin's reading is still coming along amazingly. We've done another 'Sound of the Week' poster today with the ch/tch sound and she just loves going through those. She's happily reading words which I think are quite complicated and has a good stab at any new ones. I'm very impressed. I have to confess to a fair amount of relief that she's 'keeping up' with one schooled friend, but also pleased that it has been very much at her own pace and only done as and when she's wanted to.

However, a conversation with her Playschool leader yesterday has given me food for thought. She pointed out that it is so difficult to get Tamsin to say anything to the adults at playschool that it's very hard for them to assess her attainment. Now, in one sense, that doesn't matter at all because I know her level of attainment and I know it's perfectly good, if not better than normal, at this stage. But it did highlight this extreme shyness she has with adults in particular, that extends even to those whom she likes and has known for a year or two, or even in one case, all her life. She will not speak to them, even in a setting where she is happy and enjoys going. Even my friend Kate who has looked after Tamsin since 9 months old finds it hard to get her to ask her directly for something. And on Googling last night about it, I find that these symptoms, which approach but do not quite meet the criteria for selective mutism, are signs of anxiety and possibly low self-esteem, and I admit I'm worried about it. If there is a genetic component to such things, then she's a good candidate for having inherited my tendency to anxiety, and of course maternal guilt is only too quick to rise up and fear that I have been over-protective and not built up her self-esteem enough. None of it is comfortable thinking, anyway.

Nevertheless, the muddle in my head is more than matched by the muddle in my house, so I must go and do something.