Finally, and at the same time all of a sudden, here it is.
We survived the holidays, and it’s officially the first day of primary school.
I say first day but really I mean first few hours, because that’s how it’s done.
A few hours for a few days, mornings only for a further week and then by week three she can stay for lunch. It’s not until week four that she actually gets to stay all day.
I know parents are fond of saying ‘In my day, we did it this way and we didn’t come to any harm’ about all number of things; weaning at 6 days old, strapping kids to the roof instead of using car seats, using lead-based paint to decorate their child’s dolls’ house; but on this occasion I don’t think the 80s method of dropping them off, giving them a kiss goodbye and then picking them up when school finishes 6 or so hours later was so bad.
Considering the majority of children have been in a preschool setting, and most parents have to do this little thing called work, the random hours are a little frustrating for both; I know she’s chomping at the bit to get stuck in and I have approximately 17 billion emails to reply to (sorry, I promise I’ll get back to you soon).
I do appreciate why they do it and I am sure that there will be some kids, the younger and more nervous ones, who will benefit from a graduated start…But to me, looking at my daughter, it just seems over cautious. Also two weeks of having to be in the same place for pick ups twice within the hour is going to be fun.
Anyway, back to the starting school bit.
She was up early, more excited than she was at Christmas, wanting get her uniform on and go.
Here are the obligatory ‘starting school’ pictures.
…And FYI I’ll be sharing them far and wide, all over my social media, not giving a solitary shit whether people are fed up of seeing pictures of kids in school uniforms. I might even hashtag it #proudmama in the hope the grumpy sods have a coronary.
She skipped off happily, I didn’t cry; probably because it was all very familiar and hasn’t hit me yet, and also because I’m hard me.
I dropped her brother off next door, came home and had a cup of tea.
The small one surprised me by going into preschool willingly on Monday.
He might not have gone so willingly on subsequent days, but he’s come out with a big smile despite his sister not being there. Perhaps they’re not as reliant on each other as I had imagined; after dropping him off at preschool on Monday she turned to me and said ‘It’ll be nice to have a little break. I love playing with him but he sings about bottoms too much’.
Tell me about it, kid.
Despite their very temporary separation over the past few days, they’ve more than made up for it by squeezing all of their loudness and messiness into the remaining hours. I fear by the time she’s on full days, the four hours or so between pick up and bed time will just about kill me off.
I admit, I do worry a little.
Nits, I worry about that. The bringing home of all manner of illnesses. Her learning to read and me having to abandon my collection of sweary mugs.
And of course, like any parent would, I worry that she’ll make good friends. Nice friends; ones that won’t upset her by saying that Pinkie Pie isn’t as good as Twilight Sparkle or that Belle is actually the worst princess or they don’t like her shoes. These things are very, very important when you’re four.
I hope she’ll enjoy herself and excel as I know she is able to, and although I know the novelty is bound to wear off soon, I hope that she’ll continue to be as happy skipping into school as she was today.
Maybe if she’d wake up just a little bit later too, that would be fine.