This is a summer of endings and beginnings, of lasts and firsts, as my youngest child leaves the creche she has attended since she was 11 months old, to begin school at the end of August.
It began with her last day in creche at the end of June, where she had made her first friends, kids with whom she spent most of her days, they became almost like family. Where she had been cared for so expertly and tenderly for three years. When I collected her on that last day they were playing in the garden. The Montessori teacher gathered her class together, then they stood in a circle holding hands and sang ‘Happy Last Day To You’ to the tune of ‘Happy Birthday.’
Reader, I had to turn away.
On Monday this week, I dropped her at her first sports summer camp. She’s a sociable little mite, but as she didn’t know any of the other kids going in there, I thought she might be a little nervous. She wasn’t. The delight on her face when she unexpectedly saw a friend from creche – well, Reader, I had to turn away.
The coach leading the group welcomed her, announcing the first activity would be rock-climbing. ROCK CLIMBING? SHE IS A TINY FOUR YEAR OLD HUMAN. I smiled, and made encouraging noises about how exciting that was.
My tiny four year old was not perturbed.
The years of raising tiny humans are so intense, so physically demanding, you long for independence – for them, and for you. Like everything you long for, when it comes, you’re not so sure if it’s really what you wanted after all.