The day is coming. One that I needed to prepare for. One that I am not prepared for at all.
I look back, to when your brothers were small and we set them on their path. Nursery, full time. Six months old.
They were happy, we were happy. Life was busy, our careers; careering perhaps, but seldom dull.
It couldn’t last. Too busy, too much: too little time. And so, we changed and I stopped the careering.
Stayed still, with you.
With your brothers too, of course. But they were off, school and activities, busy being busy.
So, mostly, just with you.
I look at you. Three years and five months old.
So ready for the next stage. So ready for that big leap. Preschool.
Confident, articulate. Sociable.
But, I worry. Have I done enough to prepare you? You haven’t been to nursery. You have never been left with strangers.
The boys were six months, it became their norm within days. No tears, no fighting.
You. Three and a half and so excited. But, I will miss you mummy.
You have such a wonderful vocabulary, you know your numbers, shapes and colours.
You can tell them all about orangutans and giant squid and spider monkey’s prehensile tails.
You insist your name begins with P (you know it doesn’t, you just think it’s funny) and you draw your brothers head when we ask you to write your initial.
You make up your own words to Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.
You prefer to shout rockin’ dudes ladies and air guitar than sing Old MacDonald.
I haven’t taught you all your nursery rhymes. You’re more likely to sing about bagels in a box.
I haven’t sat and made you learn all your alphabet. You’re more likely to disappear and make me a present using all the glue, sparkly things and magic tape you can find.
You can hold a conversation with an adult, hold your own with your brothers, and charm the pants off anyone.
Will you manage to sit still, or will you insist on demonstrating your latest interpretive dance moves?
Will you listen, when you should, not just when you want to?
Will you play nicely, take turns and share?
I worry that I haven’t prepared you at all. And, I worry that I haven’t prepared myself.
I will miss you.
You drive me nuts. Never giving me a minute alone. Certainly never a minute of silence.
But, it will be so quiet without you.
I know that you will love it. I am so excited for you, little girl. This next big adventure. So much to do, so much to learn.
You are extrovert, funny and engaging. And, overwhelming, demanding and challenging.
You need it. You need the structure. You need to be challenged. You need to learn to be in a group, not just stand out in one.
And, maybe you will head off without a backward glance, settle in without a care, and I will wonder what on earth I was worried about. Or maybe we’ll have to work to get you there.
Whatever happens, it’s a journey we’ll take together.
I just hope I have done enough. To prepare us both.
You can find this weeks #ThePrompt linky here. I do hope this week’s prompt inspired you; I look forward to reading your posts.