Today Mr5 is starting school. My baby has morphed into a Big Boy. Big shoes, big shorts, big hat.
He has not talked about it much over the holidays. No desire to try on the school uniform. A ‘not happy Jan’ face when we bought the school shoes. No particular interest to identify an A from a B from a C. (His favourite letter is still L. I suspect it always will be.)
This morning I went to wake him for his Big Boy breakfast. He rolled over, warm and sleepy. “Do you know what day it is, Mum?” What day? “It’s my first day at school Mum,” he said, leaping out of bed. Ready to go.
Later, as he endured the 1500th coaxing to ‘look at the camera, smile for Mummy, don’t scrunch your nose’, weighed down by the tortoise shell of his enormous backpack, jumping up and down to test his shoes, I wondered if I was ready to let him go.
At school, The Builder and I helped him put his bag away. We found his table where, to his delight, he is seated with four friends and a ‘new guy’. And then he turned to us: “You can go now.” A kiss and it was all over.
I picked him up this afternoon, almost unable to pick him from the line-up of little boys. One thing a uniform does is make a person blend in, right? When he spotted me, waiting to collect him, he beamed. Suddenly he stood out like a beacon.
Big shoes, big shorts, big hat, big smile. My little Big Boy.