Little man started school today!
It was always going to be a challenging day for him, (and an emotional one for us). We did everything that the school suggested in order to familiarise him with his new environment. All we could do was keep our fingers crossed that it would help him on the day.
So this morning I woke up to the sound of T’other half’s alarm and little man standing there in his pants singing
” Morrrrrrning Mumma, I’m going to big schoo-ullllll todaaaay!”
We got up, had breakfast and got ready. I was pleasantly surprised that there were no meltdowns over wearing the uniform…stunned actually.
So far so good.
The moment that I saw him in his new uniform and shiny shoes my heart filled with love!
I’ve done this twice before but the moment when you see your child wearing their school uniform for the first time -gets you EVERY time. It grabs hold of your heart and twangs it!
We resisted the urge to drive the few hundred yards to the school in the car, we’re bone when it comes to walking, but we’re not that bone. I held his hand in mine and I felt apprehensive. Oh who am I trying to kid? I was bricking it…
How would he react?
How would I react?
Would T’other half have to drag me away from the school door in an undignified fashion? Would my hormones malfunction all over the reception floor in front of the yummy mummies and their nice hairdo’s? Would I end up being the talking point of their coffee morning?
“Aye worra bowt ‘er at schoo throwin a benny this mornin?”
“Ah know…what a flippin barmpot!”
I needn’t have stressed…
He actually tried to break free from my hand to race off into school.. it didn’t work though, I’ve inherited Ma’s vice like grip!
The school have been brilliant in meeting his needs. We dropped him off ten minutes earlier than the bell and they are working with him using the “First and Then” method, (First you tidy up, Then you can have a drink).
Mrs C greeted us at the door and little man’s eyes lit up. He rushed towards her shaking his book and PE bags, “LOOK AT MY BAGS!!”. He was like Billy Whizz on acid and was almost through the door when T’other half asked “where’s Mummy’s kiss?”..so he ran back, kissed my leg and shot off again.
That was it.
Months of worrying about this moment and it came and went without any drama at all.
We went home and I just sat there fretting. Will he be OK? How will he react when the school bell rings? How will he cope with playtime? All these questions, (and more), racing through my mind.
We picked him up at 11.45 and I was happy to see him appear at the door, but I could tell that he was in one of his moods. He didn’t want to be hugged. He was irritable and tearful. Despite this, Mrs C gave us a thumbs up and said he’d had a good morning.
We walked back home but he wasn’t a happy chap…
It was obvious to me that he was overwhelmed, so I helped to change him out of his uniform. He got upset when I gave him a t-shirt with a small mark on the back. Normally he will tolerate it, but today he got really upset. I held him close to me and let him cry. Then he had his jam sandwiches, (same as always), and we settled down to watch Monsters Inc., (again)
After a while he began to play with his cars and fire engine, using his magnetic numbers as interaction, in the same way that you’d use toy people normally. It fascinated me to watch him…he’d pick up the number 5 and say “Right you are 5!”. Obviously, the “Right you are” is from Fireman Sam, (his latest obsession), with the numbers from Numberjacks. S loves letters and numbers, (especially numbers). They have an almost calming effect on him…
It’s been an emotional day. I’ve done absolutely nothing in the house, yet I feel drained.
Little man is in bed now. His little brain trying to process all the information of the day. At some point he will wake up, cry and shout that he’s scared of the dark. I will stagger in, cuddle him for a while then he’ll kiss my nose and tell me that I can go back to my room.
Meanwhile my own brain struggles to process all the new information… my gaze is drawn to a butterfly fluttering around the garden and I think of my son and how he is like a butterfly. Butterflies are symbolic of transformation and this is a time of transformation for him. Despite my fears about how he will thrive in comparison to his peers… he will emerge in his own time and in his own way.
As much as I want him to stay my little boy forever, I know that I have to let him go, because if you hold on too tightly to the butterfly you damage it’s wings and therefore it’s progress. I want him to reach his full potential, so tomorrow I will go through it all again. I will go through the emotional turmoil and be ready and waiting with the cuddles and kisses. I’ll even watch Monsters Inc again if I have too…
“Just like the butterfly, I too will awaken in my own time.” ~ Deborah Chaskin