My first day at big school is finally here.
There’s certainly been a build-up to it – it’s all any of the big people have been talking to me about this summer.
“So, you’re off to BIG school soon…ooh, how exciting!” their weird, scary voices boom down at me.
I’m not sure if it’s exciting or not. I’m not sure what to think.
I’ve been wearing the uniform from time to time in the summer holidays, just to try it on for size.
Mummy has tried to sew nice name labels into a couple of things – the sewing is a bit messy – but she seems to have given up on the rest and written my name in thick, black felt tip pen. Not very professional.
She laughs every time I appear wearing it and says, “Aren’t you cute?” then gets the annoying camera out.
I don’t know why though. If you ask me, it seems perfectly sensible to get used to these clothes I’ve (apparently) got to wear everyday. Bye-bye favourite Mr Potato Head T-shirt. You’ve served me well.
There was a lot of fuss about me getting a really early night last night because ‘you’ve got a BIG day tomorrow.’ I kind of wish Mummy would stop with the BIG chat. It’s freaking me out.
Anyway, I didn’t sleep, of course, because it was far too early, so I played with my Yoda and Darth Vader night lights for hours – Darth obviously defeated Yoda every time. Then he turned on Peppa and George. Well, you can guess what happened to them.
So Mummy had to wake me up this morning which seemed to make her extra flustered. She was doing that thing when she’s trying to be super chirpy but actually I can tell she’s stressed out. She sort of sings everything in a high-pitched, crazy way…and shouts at Daddy.
I’m not sure why she’s stressed out, she’s not going to this new school place for the first time on her own, and she’s got the day off work. Nice.
Daddy is unusually hanging around this morning too, instead of rushing around getting ready for work, saying bad words. This is strange.
He’s also super cheery and says, “Come on BIG boy, come and sit with me and have your Weetabix. BIG boys together! Don’t you look smart in your new uniform?”
It’s all very weird. I wish he’d stop it with the BIG chat too.
My clumpy, black shoes are sore and I’m starting to think it might be better if I just went back to nursery. None of this carry on happened when it was little, old nursery. But before I’ve even had time to trash the tidied playroom, it’s time to go and I start to feel scared.
And what’s this…the dreaded camera is out again! What’s going on? I just want a cuddle but Mummy is taking photos of me, snapping away like a deranged nutcase. Oh no, not a selfie of the three of us now, oh please… Daddy obviously feels the same as he suggests she’s taken enough photos and he gets shouted at again.
OK, this is ridiculous. Let’s go. I just want to get on with it now.
They both insist on walking me to the new place and Mummy starts wittering on about how I mustn’t worry if I’m standing all on my own at playtime, feeling really sad and lonely. There’s a school friendship bench I can sit on and someone might just come along and ‘pick me up.’ Jeez, this chat is reassuring.
Daddy tells her to stop wittering and I finally start to enjoy myself – getting time with Mummy and Daddy, both holding my hands and playing one, two, three, swing me in the air.
But then we arrive, and there are children everywhere. Much bigger children.
I feel really small and really scared. I don’t want Mummy and Daddy to leave me here in this strange place. I’m trying to be brave but I can feel my lip quivering.
Mummy bends down and puts her arms around me. Phew, the cuddle at last. It feels so good and I don’t want it to end. I love her safe smell.
When she looks at me her eyes are glistening like they do when one of those little kids sings on Britain’s Got Talent.
Daddy is standing looking a bit awkward, but then he bends down and has his serious voice on when he tells me, “Everything will be OK, you’ll have a great time. You’ll make lots of new friends, you’ll see.”
I’m not so sure, but I’ve got to do this. I don’t think I have a choice.
The new teacher takes my hand. She seems kind.
I turn to look back and see my parents waving inanely at me. I give them a half smile as I don’t want Mummy to start her crying thing. That’s too embarrassing.
I think this is going to be OK. I’m only going to try it for one day anyway, I just haven’t told anyone that part yet.
As featured in Huffington Post UK.