She was pretty excited to go and spent an hour before departure walking the hallways dragging her bag behind her. She then alerts me to the fact, (5 minutes before we leave) that she needs to rest now as she is soooooo tired from waiting for ever and ever for school to start. Oh the drama that a 4 year old girl must endure!
So she rests on the couch playing my ipad when I am then notified that she should take mummies computer to school in case she needs to use it there. What's going on here? Is my four year old expecting an important email? I inform her that you are not allowed to take toys to school, it is one of the rules. To which she replies, "But it is not a toy mummy, that is what you yelled at me yesterday when I put it on the couch." Firstly, yelled? Is that we are calling a firm tone of voice nowadays? And secondly, pretty sure you 'threw' it, you did not 'put' it on the couch. Thirdly, you are getting a bit too smart for me, best get you off to school to challenge your teachers.
It is a lovely old centre, with an extremely warm and inviting feeling. The staff are of mature age and they all talk as though they are filming an episode of Playschool. The back yard is amazing with large fallen trees for climbing, wooden climbing frames, water troughs and even an old petrol bouser! I am impressed. As is my daughter and she leaves my side and starts to play straight away. I speak to the teacher briefly, say my goodbyes to my precious one and leave the centre extremely light hearted. I was actually singing "If your happy and you know it" in my head all the way home. (Substituting the "clap your hands" with "drive the car", "stop at the lights", "get out of the car".)
One and a half hours is just long enough to do a quick grocery shop, put away the groceries then return. Right? Wrong? I only live 5 minutes from the shop, and 2 minutes from the school. How could I get it wrong? I was watching the clock, then some sort of time warp happened and I was stripped of ten minutes of my life...(think it was somewhere between throwing out an old yoghurt from the fridge and emptying a packet of biscuits into a jar). Anyway, now I am becoming hysterical. I do not want to pick her up late. I do not want her to feel out of place. The thing is, I don't even have a good excuse.
I tell my daughter how proud I am of her going to big girl school, to which she replies, "I am not proud of you not coming to get me mummy". (It would of felt like a stab to the heart, if my heart had not dropped from my body earlier.) Luckily her statement was followed quickly by how much fun she had, and asking if she can go again tomorrow. I tell her she needs to wait until next week, and next week mummy will be the first one there doing blow fish on the window when it is time to pick you up. Promise.