Congratulations! Your kid is four – or maybe even five, if you were bored between Christmas 2016 and New Year 2017 – and it’s finally time for them to start primary school.
It’s a HUGE thing, both for your child and for you, and so as a veteran parent I thought I’d hand out some of that wonderful unsolicited advice for you to largely ignore, all collated in a handy listicle.
You’re so welcome!
1. Name EVERYTHING
Scrawl your offspring’s name on and/or in their stuff. With a Sharpie if you like, there’s really no need for that fancy pants stamp/label crap, but do name it. Children will pretty much lose items of clothing whilst wearing them. I give unlabelled plastic bottles an average lifespan of 3-4 business days before they go home with another kid.
2. Find the PTA…
Because they may well do uniform sales and save you £14 on the price of a new jumper and, as mentioned, kids are excellent and haemorrhaging uniform like they don’t give a fuck about the cost of living crisis.
I’m being serious; second hand uniform sales are the dog’s bollocks. If you have them, go.
3. …But for god’s sake, don’t give anyone your number
Yet. You have JUST gained this freedom, don’t piss it all away by volunteering all your spare time manning cake stands and whatnot. I mean, the PTA is actually a force for good, but maybe next year.
The same goes for class Whatsapps/Facebook groups. They might seem like a good idea when you’re new and clueless, but unless you want to be caught up in some weird competitive parenting competition about who is already preparing for Roman Day with an authentically hand woven toga or get woken up at 3am by someone asking whether it’s PE tomorrow (probably me), it’s best not to. Plus at some point, you’re probably going to send your screenshots of it with snarky comments asking who the fuck calls their kid DJ Barry back to the chat instead of your friends. Avoid.
4. Bulk buy liquitabs
Your delightful cherub may be at school for what? 3 hours a day at the start, but they will mysteriously come home looking like Bruce Willis in Die Hard if he was bad at eating tomatoes, and you will have to wash EVERYTHING.
5. And stock up on nit lotion
FML. Don’t even get me started on threadworms.
6. Prepare to be BRUTAL
You will not believe the amount of arts and crafts shite that they will come out of that classroom clutching. A life size robot model was one of the highlights of our reception year. Unless you happen to have an unused wing in your house then you can’t possibly keep it all and it will have to be humanely disposed of. Learn to do this under the cover of darkness, lest you be discovered.
7. Await the party invites with trepidation
Sadly, unless very specifically explained otherwise, a party invite in reception is as much for you as the children. Except you won’t be having fun. Get ready to make awkward conversation with all your kids’ classmate’s parents (pro tip: maybe avoid telling them outright that you think all Tories are cunts, just in case they happen to love Liz Truss and your kids become best friends) and look longingly but awkwardly at the buffet table while the little darlings eat and you’re not sure whether it’s bad form to pinch a slice of pork pie.
8. Set an alarm when you need to pick them up
Who would forget their own offspring, am I right?! Well, me as it goes, so I always have an alarm set, Judgey Mcjudgerson.
9. Don’t worry too much about what happens
It’s a total mystery; no parent actually knows and no child can tell you because they get their memories wiped on the way out of the classroom every day, apparently. They might recall what they had for lunch at a push, but only after you’ve served them the same thing for dinner.
10. Everything will be better than OK
It’s a weird time, learning to be you again after four to five years of being someone’s mum – but you’ll get there. Your kid will love it (for the first few years, at least), they will make friends, they’ll learn to read, and in a few short years you’ll be as cynical as all the other parents.