In the lead up to Jimmy starting play school at the beginning of term 2 I told anyone who’d listen, “he’s so ready, can’t wait for him to start” etc etc.
Now, not for the first time since I started this journey called motherhood, it turns out that I was completely wrong.
I knew he would kick up a bit of a fuss, but I didn’t expect complete inconsolable grief (on his side) and pleading, begging and cajoling (on mine). It lasted for three weeks, until we were told that he really isn’t going to settle and that maybe we should try again next year.
Not even next term. Next year!
We had tried everything. Our wonderful nanny Christina, who he adores, stayed with him all morning, sitting quietly nearby, so he always felt secure. That worked for a session or two. Then it didn’t anymore.
I tried dropping them at the end of the road with the pushchair so as to avoid the whole goodbye and leaving thing, that didn’t help either.
He just cried a lot – loud, continuous crying, and he wouldn’t settle. So at the end of last week we made the call. No more play school.
I have been battling with all this mama-guilt. What will happen if he’s not socialised, what if he is going to be awkward his whole life, what are we doing wrong…? But then I think (in my mother’s tone of voice for extra impact) “for goodness sake woman, he’s only 2!”
It’s hard to step back and allow your children to develop at their own pace sometimes. I’m sure you are all far wiser than I when it comes to this, but I sometimes catch myself thinking “other people’s kids do it, so mine should too”. But that’s rubbish, and realising that is it rubbish is incredibly liberating.
Yours in motherhood,