It seems this child of mine has been bounding effortlessly into a big boy world this last few weeks. No more nappies, seemingly dropping day time naps (although I am going to persist with this one) and then there was Pre-School.
After several months of skirting around the subject of child care, visiting an inordinate amount of nurseries and my total denial that the day would come for me to handle over my bundle, we finally made a decision. And even with forms filled in and money exchanged to secure his place in September, I lay restless at night turning to twitter to voice my anxieties.
So it came to my complete surprise yesterday when we arrived at said pre-school to find that I was not - as I had thought - staying with him for a few hours to play, but in fact leaving him there for a two hour taster session. When I say surprise you'll find I mean shock, fear, trepidation, nausea, guilt and complete heartbreak at seeing his eyes well up when he realised that I was leaving him behind.
Like a horse out of that starting gate I bolted, in the knowledge that any second longer my plastered smile would falter and all would be betrayed. I sat with new friends and old, sipping coffee, chatting, clock watching, waiting until I could go and collect my boy. I rushed through the door and saw him calmly sitting with a book. He clocked me instantly with those big brown eyes, relief flooding through his face, very quickly followed by tears. I scooped him up and all was well.
After keeping schtum for most of the day about his taste of independence, he finally gave me the low down whilst sitting on the potty.
"First I was sad and I cried.
Then I was happy and I played with boats on water.
I painted a picture of mummy.
There were dinosaurs in the sandbox.
Mummy there were lots of pictures on the wall.
I saw my friends.
I did a wee in my trousers, the teacher wore gloves. That was strange.
I can go back on my own."
I smile and listen intently, asking questions about his day. Oh my baby where did you go.
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