Six more days and you’re starting school!
I knew that day was getting closer, but I was trying not to think about that, enjoying our summertime before you started your 1st grade at school.
It’s not the same as when you were going for the first time to the kindergarten. Babies go to kindergarten, play, sleep, dine in kindergarten… And you with them.
Our life didn’t change much back then. That carelessness was still in the air, I could pick you up earlier from the kindergarten, and we could just spontaneously spend some extra time together.
But now you’re starting school, bug.
When I think about the fact that in six days our lives will change and get some new dynamics, I can’t help but feel silent sadness… I remember feeling that way when the time came for your older brother to go to school. I came home feeling like someone ripped out some vital part of me that was really missing. And strange pain. I thought I’d be readier for your first day of school. I practised. But I was mistaken…
I’m thinking of you among all the big kids in the senior classes, walking up and down the stairs, going to the bakery for your snack or waiting in line to buy something at your school’s little shop. And there I see thousands of obstacles that can turn me into a mad mother breaking into your school, screaming and threatening and finally taking her cub home… I hope that it will not come to that yet.
In just six days, I will face that first grade again, for the second time. It’s coming to take you to some serious life. And one thing I can promise you:
Bug, I’m not going to cry in front of you.
We’ll all come to your gala for the first graders reception – your dad and your brother and your little sister. We’ll be finely dressed. I’m going to tie my baby pigtails and make you a toaster haircut. In the morning, we’ll all have your favourite croissants for breakfast, dress up and set off. Your brother will tell you which way we go all the time and show you all the shortcuts to school. At the entrance of your new school with a yellow facade, we will be greeted by that good security man who is always smiling. It will make it easier for me a bit, or two. On your back, you’re going to have your new “Hello Kitty” backpack where you’re going to put all the books your teacher will give you on that first day. We’ll greet your teacher and put you in a school bench. I’m going to smile at other moms and dads as good as I can, with a look begging to help me their children accept you because I know you don’t know anyone, and none of your kindergarten classmates goes to your school. We’re going to go home with a full backpack of books, an eaten banana and a story about how you got the best teacher in the world, and how all the class buddies are so cool.
The next day, I’m going to bring you back to school, make sure you find your bench, have a bottle of water and make sure there’s a friend who smiles at you and you won’t be alone during brakes between classes, and then, when there’s nothing else left for me, I’ll do my best and reluctantly get your hand out of mine, turn around and go to the exit door.
I’m going to do all this with a smile on my face, happy and proud of you.
And when I get home?
Well, my little bug, that’s a whole other story.