It's the middle of August. In just 16 days time, Squeaky will be facing up to her first day at Big School without Mummy or Daddy to hide behind. There's big steps out into the Real World, and they're happening at a rate I can hardly comprehend. I mean, she's 3 1/2, and barely 3 foot tall. OK, it's only half days, and a very loose definition of half days at that, 2 1/4 hours a day for the first half term. But my baby isn't a baby any more, she's on the edge of being a "schooley" - the word they use at pre-school for the kids who use the wrap-around service, or who come for the holiday club. How is it even possible? It only seems like five minutes since the longest wait of my entire life before a midwife finally handed my wriggling, but still silent baby to me, and persuaded her to latch on for a first feed.
And now she's teetering on the edge of a whole new phase of life. A schooley. Half of her uniform's here. I've had an email today to say the rest has been shipped. It's suddenly all so real. I've got a proper grown-up girl, and I'm not sure how I feel about that. She's still my baby. She still wants to play babies, and cwtch up in bed with me in the mornings, still looks for a cuddle and reassurance when she's facing something new & scary. But it doesn't get much new & scarier than school, does it?
She's smart. She'll love the stimulation, the input. the challenges. It's more me, I'm sure. I'm just not quite sure I'm ready to let my baby go out into the world quite yet. If nothing else, I've got a whole lot of labelling to do in the next two weeks!