Today Dexter had his last transition afternoon at school before he starts properly in September, and I cried. Like a twat.
This was most unexpected because I’ve been really excited about him starting school, his brain desperately needs to learn and someone else needs to answer his constant questions, because I’ve run out of answers!
We all gathered in the hall and the head introduced the year 6 buddies, a group of shifty looking tweens deemed responsible enough to look after a group of tiny, tiny babies. Ok there wasn’t anything shifty about them, they were all very pleasant, polite and happy, but when Dexter’s buddy took his hand and guided him out of the hall, away from me and into his new classroom, I sobbed.
*BOOM* it totally hit me that Dexter is starting to need me less and less, he’s grown up fast this past year and I was hoping for some sort of worried glance over to me, whilst being gripped by a stranger, nope I just heard him telling his buddy about the stickers he was going to do at home. Unperplexed by the entire situation.
However he is still 3. A tiny boy that still needs me to check his shoes are on the right feet and feed and water him regulary. We’ve got the summer together, with that little pest of a baby, Blake, to keep us company too. And I want to indulge him and treat him as much as my maternity pay will allow.
7 weeks, I hope I survive!
Thanks for reading
Mummy over and out