But to matters more interesting. Mac is now beside himself with excitement at the prospect of starting Big School on Wednesday and wants it "to be Wednesday now". I, on the other hand, am weeping and wailing (silently, I don't want to scar him for life by being a Clingy Mother) and trying to swallow the great big lump that's formed in my throat. "It's not as if he hasn't been at nursery for the past year" my oh-so practical husband pointed out when he found me crying over the highly polished "proper" black school shoes yesterday. That's not the point I said in muted tones - he was at nursery, now he's at school. There's a difference.
Nursery means Story Time on the Story Mat, Colouring in with Crayons and, for those that wanted it, Afternoon Naps in the Rest Room. School means Numbers and Learning and Break Time Without Orange Juice and Rich Tea Biscuits. I'm worried he won't like it, he'll have no friends, he'll hate his teacher or he'll get bullied. David is convinced that he'll love it, he'll have loads of friends, he'll adore his teacher and that he's too nice to be bullied. David also sees the glass as half full, not half empty.
I'm distracted to the point of distraction and find myself unable to think past Wednesday morning at 8.45am. Janey rang this morning to talk about the christening "do" on Sunday and I was very snappy with her. "Oh God, you're not sending him off to war, you'll be five minutes drive away from him!" she said when I revealed my problem. Auntie Ivy's problem is more pressing - she failed her driving test earlier today and, when driving home and in mid flow of what she thought went wrong on her test, wrote off the driving school car when she mounted the pavement and smashed into a bollard. Her instructor, a "gentle man called Steve", cried like a baby. "He'd only had the car a week apparently" Ivy said when I rang to see if she was okay.
Undeterred, she's signed up with another driving school for an intensive course and has put in for her test again.