My middle child, Luka just started school yesterday and I have serious mixed feelings about it. For starters, he only just turned 4 a month ago... he's still so little! Secondly, who is going to tell me constantly throughout the day that they love my shade of lipstick or my earrings or that they want to spend the rest of all their life with me (ok, my hubby does for the most part but its so much cuter coming from my son!)? On the other hand... my days just got a whole lot easier (no more 9am drop off of Helena, plus a 12:30pm nursery start for Luka and collection at 3:15pm and I now have a spare hand!); plus I get to spend some quality time with my youngest, Nicholas. 

So, his first day went like this: He was super excited, got dressed in his uniform, we had some pictures outside our front door (because Milos - my hubby - said "its what all the British people seem to do!"), we had some huge hugs and then off he bounced into his classroom. I stayed composed until I got to the car where I had a bit of a sob. Nicholas just sat and stared out the window so once I pulled myself together, I took him for his first ever sprinkle-covered donut! Instant cheer-up!

The day went well and Nicholas and I had a great time rolling around in fits of laughter. Then it happened. I got the dreaded call from school to tell me that my precious boy had an accident and was crying for mummy. My heart sank and I ran in as fast as I could. When I got there he was so proud of the graze on his chin that he showed me and ran back to his teacher to finish the day. 

About 40 minutes later at pick up I asked how his day was, what did he do, who'd he play with, what was the funniest part... only to be met with a grunt. 

I've come to realise that whilst my big 4 year old was ready for school, I wasn't quite ready for him to go.. but I suppose its much better than the other way around. 

My thoughts are with those whose munchkins also started school.

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