Primary 1

Nursery and childcare passed by too fast.
Kindergarten too, has come to a past.
The journey through preschool has come to an end.
We start a new phase now, let the Primary education begin.

★★★

Preschool has passed by quickly. As did the December hols that was part spent on a short holiday, and the rest whiled away watching cartoons and playing with his toys. In the blink of an eye, schools reopen again, and I hit panic mode as I prepared S for his new school.

Packing his new school bag, snack box, wallet, pencil case and water bottle, we also showed him where the money was kept. (I wondered if $1.50 was enough pocket money for him.) He was basically given a 101 back-to-school crash course.

All too soon, my baby boy has grown up to become a full-fledged student. From a preschooler who didn't understand the difference between behind and in front, or how to climb a ladder, or work his facial muscles without spewing a whole lot of saliva while blowing out birthday candles - to becoming an independent (almost!) primary school student.
We have really come a long way.

It is with excitement, trepidation and anxiousness that we embark onto the  primary school journey. It will be a brand new change in every way for my boy. A new start in a new environment, with new faces and teachers. Knowing the  difficulties he faced in several aspects of his development, I wondered apprehensively how S would adapt.

The Mommy-me had a million and one fears in my mind. Topmost on the list were:

Would he get lost on his way to class?
Would he know how to buy food in the canteen?
Would he have friends?
What if he needed to poo in school? (I haven't perfected his sh*t wiping skills yet.)
And the list goes on.

But whether he was ready or not, school beckoned with its wide open arms, and with the turning of age of the magical number 7, he was propelled into it's embrace.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I bade him goodbye that first morning. Watching my little boy in his new uniform, black shoes, school printed socks and oversized bag boarding the school bus, I felt a sudden inexplicable sense of ache. It was like pushing my little boy out to face the world alone, knowing he wasn't yet ready.

But it was a rite of passage that only he could take by himself, in a journey towards gaining new knowledge and independence. Although watching S looking so tired and lost, I wished I could bubblewrap and keep him protected until he was better prepared.

It's hard to imagine how much my preschooler has grown and at the same time, my heart swells with pride as I recognise the changes and progress made during his passage of time. 

We tailed his school bus all the way to school and I observed him from afar as he walked to the auditorium hall for assembly. Seeing him struggle with his bag as he walked up the stairs, I resisted the instinctual urge to run towards him to help. And I stood staring at the empty corridor long after he disappeared from my view.

And then I realised this was where I needed to learn as well. Where I learn to let go. And believe in my child, trusting that all we and his preschool teachers have ever taught him, will come to use.

It isn't easy, but I'll learn to let go little by little as the days go by. 

My son, I wish you days of happy learning, wonderful friendships, new milestones and achievements. You have grown up.

Or in his own words, 'I'm a big boy already. I'm 7 years old.'

I think I would very likely sob my heart out when he enters army.