My beautiful four year old turns 5 in August. Not yet old enough to go to school, we are looking at a new care Centre for both of them as the fees at ours are going up in December.
Looking at one where they take their own lunch in their bag.
One where Dexter – because it will be the year before he goes to school – will spend one day a week at a local primary school. Getting used to the routine. The habits. So that when it happens it’s not so much of a shock.
But who will protect him when he’s worried about the bad witch coming to get him?
My little man who just wants to be iron man when he grows up, who loves having his nails painted and wearing lip gloss. Who loves playing with his little sister and is more than a bit sensitive.
My boy who still has accidents at night and will more than once call out for me. Who still climbs into my bed in the darkness and curls up against me.
He who frequently hugs, kisses and tells his friends he loves them.
He who is prone to meltdowns when things just get too much, or the buttons aren’t right, or the shoes are itchy or the socks tickle.
What if he gets teased?
What if he struggles to make friends?
What if they laugh when he tells them he loves them and they crush my beautiful, caring little boy and he gets afraid to say “I love you”?
What if he gets in trouble for cuddling a friend or kissing them so they’re not sad?
What if he gets told IronMan is a stupid thing to want to be – when we’ve always told him if he works really hard he could just build himself an IronMan suit.
What if he’s not ready?
What if I’m not ready?