I can’t help feeling a little bit sad. I accept that my role as a parent is to prepare my child for life and bit by bit pass on skills which create independence towards adulthood. Although in my head he’s my baby, always my baby. Actually, he is a little boy who in a few short weeks will start school. This week he finished nursery and another chapter closed. He left without a backward glance. I was given a book of his developments and a shoe book he’d painted. It is his ‘transition box’ the box that takes him to his new setting: school. We will fill the box with ‘treasures’ and it will give him something ‘real and relevant’ to talk to his new peers and adults about. An anchor in new seas.
The end of nursery is a milestone and I celebrate that but it hints and the new beginnings. We have an greatsummer planned and then school. His school uniform is here and it’s very special seeing him try it on. The excitement and the pride. School will be a great new experience and offers so much. I don’t want to change him, or hold him back. The joy of parenting is seeing your child develop and grow and yet I feel a little bit sad. I see my baby but he isn’t a baby. He is my boy. My role is to send him forwards. School is such a milestone and with it comes a lot more letting go. School will peel back the edges of our world as another takes a footing. New influences teachers and peers and our little bubble will shift and mould to the changes. I know in the future I will celebrate many other milestones of independence and this should be my focus, instead I feel a little bit sad and find myself wondering when he will no longer want to hold my hand. This is irrational and yet I can’t help but wallow in it. The time flew by so quickly and I’m left wondering if I savoured enough of it. Maybe it’s the rain. Maybe it’s me.
I just feel a little bit sad. Happy but sad.