For whom the school bell tolls
This blog was originally published on a different site, 11/8/16
So here we are. The uniforms have been bought and labelled. Bags packed and pencil cases filled. Futile attempts to get the cubs into bed before 9 pm have been sternly resisted.
It really is the final countdown to the return to school and neither they nor I can wait. So why am I filled with melancholy?
Cub №2 is 4 1/2 years old. It now seems impossibly young to be sending her off into formal learning for the next 13 years. To my horror, I’ve only just realised that my eight-year-old will be heading to high school in a scant three years’ time. My head quietly exploded when that realisation sank in, I can tell you.
But still. How exciting! Learning to read and write, arts and crafts, playing. She is funny, fearless and will be in her element.
For my eldest, becoming part of the upper school, privileges unlocking as she goes, the chance to take up an instrument, running clubs and netball teams. She will relish the added responsibilities that being an older girl entails.
The possibilities for them are absolutely endless and I’m so happy for them that, as I type, the tears won’t stop. God knows what state I will be in on Monday morning.
Go and do yourselves proud. Take every opportunity offered to you and have an absolute blast.
I couldn’t be happier, we are the Three Musketeers. One for all and all for one.
Go get ’em, ladies.