A Small Hand Not Always In Mine

J is the first child to enter his classroom every day. The walk to school is a short one (we can see the building from his bedroom window) and we always arrive early. J plays in the playground playhouse with his new friends while I chat with fellow mums. I never thought this would happen, Im very aware just how young I must look to them all, but I seem to be getting along fine with a few of them. J has no inhibitions when it comes to socialising with those his own age, he knows how to make them laugh and Im sure he is one of the most talkative of the class.

Every morning, prompt at 8:45, the classroom doors are opened and no matter where he is in relation to the other children, he always seems to make it in first. Im so happy that he is enjoying school so much. I knew he was ready and he is proving me right. He helps me hang up his coat and bag onto his peg, which has a photograph of him and a picture of a xylophone (which he sincerely tells me is actually a saxophone, no matter how many times I try to correct him). The various tables are all laid out ready with different activities and he chooses which one he would like to do. If theres playdoh, he will always go there first. If not, its usually the sand pit he makes a beeline for. Yesterday he had his first go playing on the computer and so thats where he went first this morning. He has learned so much and he always comes home with a new piece of information. Words from a new storybook, a nursery rhyme he sang, something new and exciting he has played with and learned about, or just something funny that happened.

 He talks about the childern, although he has yet to learn their names. Every time I go to pick him up, he is sat there so nicely on the carpet with the others, clutching his coat and bag, and when he sees me, he stands up and proudly announces that his mummy is here now, and he collects his artwork from the teacher before leaving. As we walk home, I can see him processing new information, everything he has learned, and all that has happened that day. He doesnt tell me half of it, and much as Id like to know everything, this is ok. Its his own time away from me now, and Im learning to let go of him a little and not need to know every detail. Its difficult realising that he doesnt need his hand held through everything he does anymore, but I am so proud of his new acheivements.

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