So Little Z has finished reception year at school in the blink of an eye. What a difference a year makes ey? He’s gone from being my only baby boy to a big brother who absolutely loves his teachers. He can also read and write. How amazing.
We started those first few weeks really nervous. I say “we”, as it wasn’t a school known to either myself or my husband. We’d done a lot of reading and this was a really good all rounder. It’s still nerve wracking though, isn’t it? Sending your baby off to “big school” with “big children”. Off we went on those first weeks. One excited boy and one very heavily pregnant me, ready to give birth about a week later.
After the novelty wore off, he actually didn’t want to go anymore. “I’m done now mummy, I don’t want to go anymore”. Argh! Suffice to say, there was a lot of dragging out of bed, and coaxing and, on occasion, bribery. Eventually, something clicked and he fell in love with his school, and his teachers and the dinner ladies that are not called “dinner ladies”. He learnt how to write his name, and short stories and about his adventures and the all important finger spaces. He learnt to do spidery cursive and now insists to the world that they must also do cursive. He learnt to double and halve numbers and do additions and subtractions. He learnt to put his uniform on and his shoes on the right feet. He learnt how to forget everything when it suited him and learnt how to fill in the “Wow” sheets when he thought he’d done something good. I have mentioned before, but I think teachers should rule the world. All that shaping and educating and imparting of wisdom. How amazing. I am *that* mother. The gushy one, that keeps thanking teachers at the end of every term. I try not to hug. Or bawl.
There’s also been some huge life lessons. Disappointments at not getting the golden book, around friendships, and around not always winning. They are all things I’d prefer to cocoon him from, but they need to be learnt at some point don’t they? And we’ve hugged and stumbled through them all together. The little baby Z is changing into a 5 year old teen Z and he is hilarious and frustrating in equal measure. He has my temper and his dad’s laid back attitude. He’s stubborn and I love that he is learning to defend himself. It’s an interesting mix at times. He doesn’t realise how popular or charming he actually is and that’s probably a nice quality to have. One I hope stays and serves him well once he’s a grown up. I never thought I’d be the mum that got choked up at school reports but it was so lovely and captured his personality. He apparently loves to tell jokes in class. I’ve asked for a sample of these and they are pretty dire. I think I need to invest in a joke book for him if his comedic stint is going to continue. As much as I’m glad the holidays have started, it’s a bittersweet milestone saying goodbye to that whole year. The year that has hopefully been a good grounding to the rest of his educational life.
I won’t mention being terrified at how to constantly entertain a 5 year old plus baby through the next 6 weeks. I’m sure it’ll be fine.