Yesterday morning. 11 June 2015. 10.15am
I am sat in a cafe on my own, with a little peace and a latte, blogging.
Heaven – I have longed for this moment.
Where’s Pickle? He is in playgroup.
This morning I left him for the first time EVER with anyone other than close family.
My stomach feels a bit funny. I feel a bit sick actually.
I had tears in my eyes as I walked out of the door to his little voice saying ‘you’ll be right back won’t you?’
‘Yes’ I smiled, ‘Mumma will be right back, I am just popping to the car.’
And he turned to play, without a thought.
I know he’s ok, I have had no phone call.
I miss him. His chattering. His questions. His smile.
Oh no, don’t cry in public for goodness sake.
He is my very last baby. And he is now, registered, signed in, paid up to his first setting. The start of his journey into education, and life.
So I am sat – happy to have this little bit of time. Happy to know he is safe and having fun. Happy he is learning to play with others, and share, and make friends.
So why do I feel so sad?