Today is one of the scary times as a parent, the first day at big school for my son. He’s 11, so he’s off to secondary school, and at this point in life it’s a hug shift to go through. Thankfully he’s coping with it really well, and despite some nerves he’s really looking forward to new experiences.
On our way to school, he was asking me about my first day at school, and to be honest, I don’t even remember it. Not because it was more than 25 years ago (yes I am that old) but because not much of my school life seems to have stuck in my head. I guess that’s the thing with the events, they seem huge at the time, but depending on when you write the novel that is your life, depends on how much space it takes up.
All I remember are fleeting little memories that really stuck out, but the nerves and terrible feeling that no doubt happened on my first day are lost to time. We spent a few minutes talking about that, and he realised he couldn’t even remember his first day back last year, so that gave him confidence.
I am so proud of him. Not because of what he achieves or the things he does, but because of the person he has become. James is such a nice person to be around and that gives me confidence with the way we have worked as a family. We will only get this experience once, as Lucie stays at the same school until she is 19, so we might as well try to enjoy it today.
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