I joined the ranks this week of mums sending their children off to Reception class, the beginning of too many years of packing little ones off to school when it seems, no matter what year they are, they are too young.
And of course, as predicted, there was so much excitement, and so much giddiness. The anticipation became unbearable as the boys had to watch CM line up and walk into school at five to nine and they couldn’t join her.
They refused to play on the climbing frame whilst waiting for their allocated start time of ten past nine. They insisted on lining up outside their door, fortunately their teacher opened the door at five past and agreed to let them in!
Oh, they were enthralled, as their teacher learned their names and then pretended to get them muddled up, as she admired their book bags and lunch bags, and showed them the places for everything. And as they hung on her every word, fortunately she asked if they’d like to give me a hug goodbye, and I was engulfed by their happiness.
I waved goodbye, and watch them being walked down the corridor with everything being explained, and as they put their book bags outside their classroom, the teacher saw me still there, and asked the boys to give me one last wave, as the door opened and they went into their new learning space.
And, of course, I walked away with tears down my face.
I am so proud of my two boys, and in a smug mum-of-twins moment, confident that they will always have someone looking out for them. But there were tears, for how far they have come, and for everything their future holds.
I spent the day in an odd melancholy, I felt a sense of unease in the new quiet, I thought about a little boy who should have been starting school this year but was taken too soon, I thought about the image which engulfed the internet the night before- a stark reality of the world in which we live, of a world which will never see the potential of these children .
And, as our three arrived home, a whirlwind of excitement, the joy overflowed.
Their enthusiasm, their happiness, and their generosity.
In place of melancholy I have gratitude, for all my children have to offer.