It’s hard to believe this is Poppy’s fourth week of being “a big schoolgirl” (a phrase I am using very frequently in a futile bid to get her to actually act like one). The weeks have flown by, and I’m pleased to report that at this stage, she is absolutely loving it. She skips off with her class quite happily every morning, following the teacher she already idolises, and chatting with her newfound friends. You should see the grin on her face on the days she’s first in line in the mornings. Those are the days the teacher will hold her hand during the walk to the classroom. Those are the days she is Queen Bee.
“Losing” her to school has been nowhere near as traumatic as I thought it would be. I spent so long fearing the unknown, dreading her first day, and just generally overthinking the life out of it all, that by the time it actually came round, I was almost over the whole thing already.
It was a gorgeous sunny day, and the walk to school was just a sea of tiny children in red cardigans and jumpers, all greeting each other along the way, looking pristine and far too small to be wearing school uniform. As I kissed her goodbye and held her tight in the playground, I was glad of the sunshine and the fact it meant I could wear sunglasses, as I shed a few secret tears before releasing my grip and setting her free. But she gave me the strength not to be sad. Her whole face was beaming, and she was oozing happiness and excitement. How could I be sad when she was so ecstatic about this new chapter in her life?
And, to be honest, having peace to have a coffee and eat my full Scottish breakfast outside – yep, it was THAT warm – in a nearby cafe with my boyfriend and brother afterwards quickly took away any remaining doubts I had.
writeonmumblog 