I got chatting to two of the key workers at nursery today, and we got chatting about the graduation ceremony that will happen this summer – to commemorate all the kids who start school in September. Like H.
It brought a lump to my throat. Two and a half years ago my baby was left on her own without me for one day a week, which then went up to three days, now four. The place has become her second home, she’s happy, secure, loves everyone there (today when I asked her who her best friend was, she told me “everyone is!”) and in a year she’ll start it all again, making new friends (though I’m finding a few more mums in her room whose children may end up at school with her which is nice) while the rest of her life really starts.
The talk of a graduation ceremony brought a lump to my throat. I almost blubbed there and then – and the main key worker from her first room said how she likes to be there as she’s watched all the children grow up from that room.
So if I’m close to tears talking about it over eight months before the event, this does not bode well for the actual event. I can never stop myself from crying. I’m just one big soppy idiot really.
I also can’t stop talking about school, but I’m not obsessed, okay?