Walking to and from school on our first day

At the end of the street.

Me and my Dada...

Off we go.

Saying hello to Terry.

Is this it? Gulp.

Coming home. Already the jumper's off, the shirt's untucked, head in book.

And the verdict on school is...

...is: "it's okay Mama".

Since our preparation for school has been going on for seemed like ages, actually getting to school never seemed quite real. Hence the wobbly for Mama the night before. And again when he finally put on his school uniform on Thursday morning.

Unlike pretty much everyone else I've spoken to, Oliver has shown absolutely no interest in putting on his school uniform. He's been happy to do it when I've suggested he might like to show various relatives how handsome and grown up he looks, but otherwise has been entirely unfussed about wearing it. So when he finally got dressed in the entire outfit, I did shed a little tear, which of course, puzzled Oliver no end. He doesn't get that he looked about 7 already and Mama is projecting all her sentimental nonsense about growing up onto one day of occasion. ;-)

It didn't last long though as we had a photo call before heading off into the distinctly Autumnal morning. Oliver casually strolled into town and only when we saw the church steeple did he screech "look there's my big school". Nanny Terry was waiting for us at the school gates and after cuddles he saw Ava and a couple of other kids he knew and was off.

He knew exactly where to go and straight into the classroom without a look behind him - Mama did steer him gently towards his coat hook whilst Dada put his water bottle in the tray. Then he spotted a train track and was off. Not a goodbye, not a kiss, just plonked himself down and that was that.

Dada sneaked in a quick kiss and Mama got a wave before we decided it was now embarrassing just hanging around in the reception classroom for no apparent reason and left.

So no tears for anyone. Phew. And when we picked him up he was a bit subdued (probably due to the tiring business of making friends and playing for three hours) but seemed happy enough. Typical Oliver with no feedback to speak of and not wanting to seem desperate for information we left the Spanish inquisition until he was ready. We have no idea what he does or doesn't do, who he plays with or any of the names of the other kids (apart from the ones he already knows). Ah well, it'll come, just give it time....

He did come out with a picture though. A picture drawn on a computer. These modern kids. Sigh.

Well done Oliver. You took your first day at big school in your stride. We couldn't have asked for anything more.

Oliver's star

was for helping tidy up.
(on closer questioning he wasn't entirely sure what he tied up but heh ho)

Oliver's first day at big school

A big week

You know when you talk about things so much that they almost become unreal or just so familiar they lose their sense of importance? Well the past few weeks, even months has been a bit like that.

Oliver starts school tomorrow. We have been excited about this since before he left nursery. They prepared him so well for 'big school' that he'd disengaged from nursery even before the summer holidays started. The pre-school visits in the summer term got him so wound up and eager to go to big school it almost seemed a shame to have the summer holidays at all. And on top of all this, being so busy for the six week break - going on our caravan-ing adventure and then to France to see Nonna and Big G and desperately trying to see as many of our friends as possible - made the holidays wizz by and before we knew it Pip was back at nursery and here we are. Ready to go.

Throughout everything we've talked a lot about heading off into the unknown of big school. About how new everything will be, but also how familiar it will all seem with so many faces Oliver knows. The visits in July were useful for starting a burgeoning crush on Miss Laver his reception teacher, but still now when I'm sitting here contemplating the fact that my little boy is going to proper school, I am gobsmacked. You always nod your head sagely and say 'of course' when the wise parents before you tell you how fast time goes, but you never quite fully believe them. Not until something as monumental as starting school actually hits you like a tonne of bricks. It's like how you never realised quite just how much loving your child hurts - a physical tightness of the chest that you can never, ever get rid of (or want to), somehow even more when you see your children sleeping - or how you can only appreciate how much your parents loved you when you have children of your own.

But I digress. Slightly. Tomorrow a part of me goes with Oliver to school but as he walks towards the school door, I know a part of him is taken from me. Not in a bad way at all, but in a beautiful, amazing way - our boy, our precious boy, is growing up. Becoming more independent. And on his way to being the man we hope, and know, he can be.

Good luck Oliver. Mama and Dada love you very much and are so proud of you.

Blimey, I started this post in a upbeat mood and look at me now. A dribbling wreck. This does not bode well for the school gates tomorrow! Excuse the overly sentimental outburst of this post - how terribly un-British of me - but hey. Stuff like this only happens once.

Hello!

I know it's been a while, but I promise I will start posting about our wonderful summer, but since this week is filled with Pip starting back at nursery and Oliver starting, gulp, big school on Thursday, I have only popped by to give you a taster of things and apologise for our absence.

So sorry and see you very very soon.