I walk past her room and look at her bed. We made it together after she brushed her teeth, just before she put on her uniform.
I held back from helping her dress. She’s determined. She attempts the buttons and then looks up at me. “That’s okay sweetheart, lets have a look.”
She chose her school shoes because they had hearts stamped into them. Her teacher said she would have picked them for that reason too.
We follow the chart. Time for hair. My fingers are awkward, unused to braiding her hair. By the end of the year I’ll probably be an expert. I pick up the pink can and tell her to close her eyes. Mist falls on her hair.
We were out the door an hour early. She was excited; beaming. A preppie.
She danced around the playground, exasperated by my need to take yet another photo.
Her friends arrive. There is electricity in the air. A buzz.
They jostled at the door to be let in. Impatient. Who will be first?
I saw other mums with tears in their eyes. I wasn’t sad. She is so ready for this. I’m so ready for this.
Peace. Time for myself.
She’s started school.
Linking up the love at With Some Grace for Flog Your Blog Friday