Today my littlest girl finished playschool and I’m not ready.
At three years and eight months old, Amy is much older than her siblings where when they left playschool. But I’m not ready.
Amy has been at playschool for about 18 months, considerably longer than Ben and Chloe were purely due to the time of year she was born. She’s old enough to have formed really strong relationships with the ladies who care for her. She’s old enough to understand that today was her last day and that she won’t be going back. She has been really unsettled in the last few weeks building up to leaving today but she was so brave as she said her goodbyes. Me? I cried. I’m not ready.
The ladies at playschool have looked after all three of my children – in fact I’ve been taking my children to playschool for the last 6 years, give or take a few months cross over. Today feels like the end of an era. And I’m just not ready.
Of course I know that Amy is more than ready to start Nursery at school in September, she will be almost a full year older than Ben and Chloe were when they started and yet she’s still my baby. I tried one of Chloe’s old school skirts on her the other day, just to check if it fit. I cried. I’m honestly not ready.
I was chatting to a friend this morning about those “last firsts” that come with your final baby – they are so much harder to swallow when you know you’re not going to be doing it again. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want any more babies – three is absolutely my number. But I just want time to press pause. It feels as thought if I blink, primary school will be over and I’m not ready.
Slow down baby girl. Mummy’s not ready.