Well, the day has finally come. The Wilburbeast (the youngest member of the Crummy Family) starts pre-school. He is too SMALL, he is my wee bundle of boyness, my BABY.
I felt the same wrench when Miss Bags started pre-school too – oh how I missed her on my days off, those sleepy mid-afternoon snuggles, playing in the garden all day, the house filled with her incessant chatter; but I knew that The Wilburbeast was on his way. Whilst I had no idea what pre-school entailed, how she would feel or how I would feel; and that scared me – Miss Bags wasn’t my youngest. I would still have a baby at home.
Now however, The Wilburbeast IS my youngest. I have none of those pre-school newness worries! The pre-school we have chosen is the same one Miss Bags went to – with many of the same staff. It’s a fabulous pre-school and I know he will be very happy there. But he is my BABY. Don’t get me wrong, I’m looking forward to seeing him grow as an individual, develop his personality and make his own friends. I can’t wait for the first splodgy painting, and first wobbly tracing of his name. But he is still my BABY!
I guess this is more about ME and less about The Wilburbeast. I’ll miss him laughing at me when I weigh the veg in Sainsburys, and ticklefighting, and puddle jumping, his mess and his chat… I’ll miss him the same way I missed Miss Bags, and I’ll revel in his growth and development the same way I do hers, in a glow of proud parentage… but part of me will be sad because my babies are growing up and we have decided not to have any more. I know in my head that decision is right for us as a family, but I’m not quite ready to admit it to my heart yet….