Your Last Day of Preschool, Dear Hamish
Today was your last day of preschool. I’m trying to be brave but, beneath the smiles, my heart is breaking a little. In four short years, you have gone from my gorgeous baby to my “big boy” it’s been a blur. I read a beautiful quote the other day and it epitomises how I feel about you and your brothers. ‘You only get 18 summers, 18 winters, 18 springs and 18 autumns with your child, so make the most of it’! I would say it’s less than 18 though, as when you become a teenager you want to spend less time with your family and more with your friends. But when a season ends, it highlights to me the numerous inevitabilities one faces as a parent. I think the most important lesson I have learned through becoming a parent is change is inevitable. Things don’t stay the same for long – both good and bad.
Over the past few years of you at preschool, it has been special watching you gain confidence, make friends and learn new things. Your beautiful preschool has been a safe and nurturing environment where you have thrived, learnt and most importantly enjoyed. It is a place that values play, which I believe to be the most vital aspect of any preschool curriculum. I have been privileged to be at home with you for the last five years. It hasn’t always been easy, yet I value being the main influence in your life thus far.
My tears were being held back all day on Hamishs last day of preschool, I tried to distract myself for fear of overthinking this huge milestone, and with big gulps of air I was able to get through picking you up and not looking like a fool! I was going to pick you up at normal time that day, but thankfully there was a reminder email that went round to tell parents to pick their children up an hour earlier than usual! I don’t think you would ever have forgiven me for looking like I’d forgotten about you!
When we got home, as I unpacked your bag that final time, the sobs finally came. Emptying out your spare clothes, collections of drawings, your hat and your name tags, it hit me like a ton of bricks. Next year the contents of your bag will be different, more grown-up. I acknowledged the end of this season in both our lives.
Soon, you will be off to big school with your new book bag and uniform. I won’t be there, but your big brother will be in the class with you (year one and reception are together). Your hours of imaginary play will be replaced by learning to read and simple mathematics (together with play as well). I think Hamish could have done with an extra year off before going to school. I know you will be fine but to me your still a young chicken with lots to learn, your speech being a big part of what’s holding you back and the toilet training isn’t quite where your brother was at this stage!
Thankfully, it is not entirely goodbye for me at your preschool, as Seth will still be going on Wednesdays and Fridays and one day your other younger siblings will go there too. I am so proud of you, Hamish my star, the one who can’t speak but is the most sociable child, the one who is scared of the unknown but confident with each new chapter (all at the same time)! You have shown yourself to be conscientious, courteous and caring in these early childhood years and I can’t wait to watch what happens in the next chapter.
Dream big, my sweetheart. Love Your Mumma