My youngest godson starts school this week for the first time. It is such a big day for him and he is so unbelievably excited. He has spent the previous couple of weeks modelling his new school clothes for anyone and everyone.
But his mother and I have mixed emotions. He looks so young and vulnerable standing there in his over-sized school uniform and shiny black shoes.
When my first child started school for the first time, I cried buckets when I got home. My daily routine had been centred around her for so long, and the house felt so empty. I couldn’t wait to pick her up and bring her back home again.
By the time my second child went off to school I was much calmer. I didn’t cry as much, and I actually began to revel in the peacefulness of having my house to myself again.
But now that the children are older it’s a different story. My friends and I get together on the first day of each term and celebrate “Back To School Day” over coffee and cake. It’s a red-letter day in all our calendars. We all look forward to it, and there are no tears.