"In the name of love, what more in the name of love"
In a complete reversal of "what to expect", M and I mis-read todays events almost as much as we'd mis-read them for Annabels' trip to the doctors last week (see here).
With that day, we'd expected tears and crying but we were wrong.
Today, we expected only excitement and happiness and again, we were wrong.
Actually, 'wrong' doesn't quite cover it, we were well off the mark!
As has turned out to be the case on more than one occasion, what we managed to do for our first born, we didn't manage to replicate for the second. The week before Josephs' first day at school, we dressed him in his uniform, got him used to it, took some pictures, made a fuss and so on.
With Annabel, we didn't - more out of a lack of time than anything else but a 'lack of time' doesn't mean much in a childs' eyes. Having said that, perhaps it wouldn't have made any difference and we are beating ourselves up for nothing, such is the tragedy of parenthood!
Either way, with me at work and lucky enough to be keeping an eye out for her arrival and to see her for the first time in all her finery, M had a devil of a job getting her to keep the clothes on. Much screaming and tantrum-ing later (two hours worth), they appeared at the locked gate.
I could tell something was amiss thanks to the colour of Missys' sobbing face, the tears still fresh on her cheeks. My cuddle did nothing to alleviate her stress, nor could the appearance of her previous nursery teacher (whom Annabel loves!).
M did the only thing she could do and walked away (as did I, it was my lunch break) and I sat and looked at M across a coffee table looking upset herself, worrying about how our daughter was getting on.
She needn't have worried.
Upon my return, I saw Annabel playing happily with her friends, old ones and new ones, pleased with herself at having been asked to help make them feel at home in their new school.
I have watched her play in that playground for the past 8 months and all that has changed really is that she is now wearing a very smart uniform.
This small difference however, has proved more than enough to make me need to keep swallowing the lump that kept threatening in my throat.
That lump called "Pride".