First day expectations...

It's been two weeks since Little P, Little N and I made our short journey to Little P's new school (well almost new to her, we had been attending Cylch Ti a Fi there already). She's nursery age and so she only does afternoons at this stage. I know the natural thing is to be teary and sad that my little girl is growing up but in all honesty, she and I were both very excited. We waited at the gate, second in the queue (we had, in fact, arrived first having really underestimated how close the school actually is, but waited in the car because I  prefer to see what other people do first!) and a very nice mum asked us if it was Little P's first day. She introduced us to her son who had started the previous term, so was a seasoned expert in a bid to put Little P at ease. She quickly realised there was really no need as Little P and her little boy exchanged a hug and were carried away in conversation in no time.

Shortly afterwards the gates were opened and we were invited into her lovely little classroom. This was the only time I felt a little bit sad. Little P has a habit when she's feeling a bit overwhelmed of introducing people to her sister in an attempt to just say something. ANYTHING. (You know the same way we feel when we are in a lift with a stranger?) Anyway, among all the hustle and bustle she was just desperately trying to find someone to engage with and as you'd expect, most people were caught up in their own emotional turmoil. Then along comes my new hero LSA. I've since asked Little P what her name is and she told me it's Mrs Biscuit but there is no Mrs Biscuit on the staff list so go figure... She got Little P settled in a desk and that was it - she was too busy to even say goodbye.

My expectations of collecting Little P from school that afternoon played out exactly as I had hoped:

• Burst out of the doorway with a massive grin on her face
• Yells 'Mummy!' 
• Runs towards me. 

And then disappointment struck. Disappointment I'd been warned about by so many parents but arrogantly assumed it wouldn't happen to me. Disappointment that went a little something like this:

Me: So, did you have a fantastic time?

Little P: Yeah.

Me: Brilliant! What did you do?

Little P: Played with toys.

Me: Ooh, lovely. Did you make lots of friends?

Little P: Yeah.

Me: What are their names?

Little P: Dunno

Me: You'll have to ask them tomorrow, won't you?

Little P: Yeah.

(For an idea of the conversation that happened over the 9 school days since, please repeat above replacing the end with: Forgot to ask again, I'll ask tomorrow.)

What? That's it? I wanted a full run down of everything she did! I wanted to her to gush with stories of who had a dog/cat, who's dads were bigger, which children, if any, had been naughty (as long as it wasn't her!)

At least she's having a good time, she still looks forward to it every day. Mrs C, her teacher, is really lovely so I'm confident that no news is good news, Unfortunately 'no news' doesn't satisfy the curiosity of a nosy mum! 

Little N and I even got a little confidence boost as we dropped Little P off this afternoon from some of the older girls in the playground (by older I mean, like 6) in the form of:

'Ooh, I like your baby!' and 'Ooh, I like your hair' (it was plaited like Elsa's so...)

I'm taking it. A compliment is a compliment. and who's more honest than children, eh?

PS The novelty of uniform has run way out.  Two polo shirts is not enough for my washing turn around.