Your Last Day of Preschool

Dear Scarlett,

Today was your last day of preschool. I’m trying to be brave but, beneath the smiles, my heart is breaking a little. In five short years, you have gone from baby to “big girl” in a blur of minutes, hours, days and months.

The world doesn’t need another post about childhood passing too quickly. But this is your story – my story – so I’m writing it anyway.

last-day-of-preschool

When a season ends, it highlights numerous inevitabilities one faces as a parent.
Time stops for no one. Each moment of every day is an opportunity to make decisions, cherish moments and appreciate life.
My children are growing up unbelievably quickly. On the days I wish for bedtime to just get here already, I would do well to remind myself these years are short.
Change is inevitable. Things don’t stay the same for long – both good and bad. In the tough seasons, there is always hope of a brighter future. When good times come, they are to be embraced.

Over the past two years, it has been special watching you gain confidence, make friends and learn new things. Your beautiful preschool has been a safe and nurturing environment where you have thrived. It is a place that values play, which I believe to be the most vital aspect of any preschool curriculum. Even so, I would often drop you off late and pick you up early because I prefer you being with me.

I have been privileged to be at home with you for the last five years. It hasn’t always been easy or even fun. Yet, I value being the main influence in your life thus far.

The tears have been threatening all day. I’ve been distracting myself for fear of overthinking this milestone. I’m trying to avoid ending up in a heap in the corner with a glass of wine and a box of tissues.

As I unpacked your preschool backpack one final time, the sobs finally came. Emptying out your spare clothes, collections of nature items, your floppy hat and your “Baba and blankie”, I acknowledged the end of this season in both our lives. Next year the contents of your bag will be different, more grown-up.

last-day-of-preschool

Soon, you will be off to big school with your hat and backpack (as you keep reminding me through song!). I won’t be there and you will spend your days away from the security of home. Your hours of imaginary play will be replaced by spelling and mathematics. The delicious sandpit cakes substituted for rice cakes from the canteen.

Everyone says you are ready for big school, but I’m not. How can I let you go when you still say “hostipal” and can’t tie your own shoelaces? I hugged you tightly earlier and told you not to grow up. You responded by telling me, “I am a big girl but I will always be your baby.” With all my heart I wish this was true, but I fear you will need me less and less, sooner than I expect.

I thought, perhaps, you hadn’t grasped the significance of today. However, as you played with your sisters, your tears came too. On discovering your final performance costume already had a hole in it, the enormity of the day appeared to take hold of your emotions. Your most recent momento of a chapter now over had been damaged and it is perhaps too soon for you to let go.

On arrival in Australia, we knew very few people and our whole family felt lost, for a period. The first time we visited your preschool I was overcome by hope. The warm welcome, the beautiful surroundings and the smiling faces reassured me it was the place for you. You have made lovely friends. So have I. Many times, over the last two years, I have sat on the wooden steps, soaking up the sun, listening to the sound of excitable children. It is such a happy place. I hope you will keep playing, as you have done so freely there.

Thankfully, it is not entirely goodbye. Your sister will shortly start her preschool chapter and no doubt I will be crying into her backpack in a couple of years. You will join your besties at your new school and likely meet some new ones too.

I am so proud of you, Scarlett my star. You have shown yourself to be conscientious, courteous and caring in these early childhood years.

The words of “our song” seem more appropriate today than usual:

“Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue.
And the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true.”

Dream big, my sweetheart.

Love,
Mum

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