Sunday, 12 February 2012

The Time Has Come ...

... for our first born son, my little soldier, my baby boy ..... to fly the nest.

Well, okay. He's actually four and he's just finished his first week of Pre School, but it feels like he's leaving home or something.

Nah, I'm okay really. I surprised myself actually. I thought I'd be the one in tears as I waved him off that first day, but I managed to swallow the small lump in my throat and I've been fine since. Missing him, but wanting him to be there.

How's he?? Oh yeah, he's fine.

Something my dear friend said she remembered reading that fits so well, about a little boy who when asked how he liked his first day at school replied "Oh it was very nice thanks. But I don't think I'll go again".

Day one he was nervous, but also extremely excited to be going. Excitement level 7 at least.

And his excitement scale works on a slide from One: Mummy and Daddy let me stay up half an hour late to watch the end of a movie, to Ten: Mummy and Daddy said they'll buy me the Titanic for my Birthday. NB: No.1 son's current obsession is to raise the Titanic. I kid you not. He even has a plan involving balloons. Scarily, I think it could work. He's four for f@*ks sake! He should be in school, clearly.

We've delayed him going a little, he seemed ready for it a year ago but we were pretty much on the road at the time (another post some day).

I'm massively passionate about my want too, which has been with me since I fell pregnant that first time, to try and be home with my children in their early years so I wasn't exactly rushing to get him off to school. I know, some people don't have the luxury of that choice. Although I wouldn't exactly describe any of those early years as luxury, we really struggled without a second salary. But I know how important their development is in those first few years of their lives and if I could help it, I didn't want my kids mannerisms, traits, quirks or foibles to reflect anyone other than me and Hubby.

Shame. Maybe I should have thought that through more ey? Poor kids, ending up with all our bad habits. Those preschool teacher ladies are much nicer. Ha!

But really, I'm keen for him now to have the freedom, the new friends and more attention and new knowledge that we have time to give him in his day. Not to mention all that prep work for 'Big' school.

So go, fly my little one. Mummy's undone the apron strings just a little bit, go grow and have lots of fun.

"Fly my little one??" I sound like the Wicked Witch of the West, sending my flying monkeys out to attack.


Mental note to self, don't blog when you're tired and emotional!!


  1. If you followed that mental Note you would never blog at all! Very funny read.


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