What I REALLY hope my son learns at school

We’re nearly a week into my just-turned-four-year-old starting school and it’s going much better than feared. Only complaints so far; school dinners are rubbish and the other kids aren’t interested in his jokes. Fair dos on both counts I’m afraid, son.

‘Why is gravy brown?
Because it’s poo poo,’

has limited laugh-appeal when said gravy probably does taste a bit crap.

Poo poo banter aside, I’m wondering what goes on behind the classroom door once I tear myself away, dewy-eyed each morning.

‘There’s not many toys,’ Bouncing Boy informs me. Wow. Maybe they’re actually doing some learning in there? I don’t care for reading, writing or arithmetic at this stage, but there are some things I’m hoping school might help me out with…

Keeping his clothes on
Is it just my children who strip off the moment they get home? Bouncing Boys sheds everything barr his pants at the threshold, and is naked from his first toilet break – such a free spirit, as if the wearing of clothes cramps his very soul. It’s quite cute at home but could make play dates awkward. ‘Oh yes, didn’t I mention my son’s a nudist when I invited yours for tea?’ Here’s hoping the uniform rules nip this one in the bud.

Getting his clothes off
Hands up, I’m one of THOSE mums – one who fails at the basic task of equipping my school-aged child with even rudimentary independence. I did try, honest. I’m no stranger to dressing up games and songs but my son couldn’t care less about getting his trousers on the right way round. He’d rather be naked. See above. Still, a bit of gentle peer pressure when it’s time for P.E. and he might finally tell the difference between his arm hole and his head hole…

Damn baby-led weaning and my inability to keep track of kids’ cutlery. My son would still rather muck in up to his elbows with his hands. Oh, the shame of catching him pouring cereal straight from the box into his mouth, the dirty looks re his dirty face when we eat out. School Dinner Ladies, I beg you, save me from a future of wet wipes and weeping every mealtime.

Not Eating
The only thing worse than messy eating is not eating at all. Mealtimes are a game of chance in our house, where the rules and odds on whole food groups change at whim.

‘I never ever don’t eat egg, mummy. Only at Grandma’s. On toast. And for breakfast. At weekends.’

Silly me. Quite frankly, I’m relieved to hand over the responsibility for one meal a day. And Bouncing Boy is loving the ‘service with a smile’ school chefs. Maybe that’s where I’m going wrong…

Does any mum really get over losing nap time? Bouncing Boy dropped his afternoon kip relatively late – around 3-years-old – but I still felt hard done by when it went. I mourned the long lazy hours in the afternoon when the house would fall silent and I’d have time to just stand and gaze at him for awhile, all angelic and slumbery. The tea, biscuits and guilt-free Facebook time and had nothing to do with it, honest. Imagine my excitement when my son fell asleep after school the other day. OMG. I’d expected him to be tired, but voluntarily-taking-himself-off-for-a-nap-tired? Sweeeeet!

Not Sleeping
You know what it’s like. There comes a time in every pre-schooler’s life when the 6.30pm bedtime starts to feel ridiculous, even to you. Bouncing Boy has been pushing back for months, adding more and more books to the bedtime routine. We were in 6 story territory before school started. But ever since that first day, his eyes have been drooping from the first page. I don’t know what you do in there teachers, but thank you. You’ve added an hour to my evenings and taught my little boy to sleep like a baby. Keep up the good work.

What d’ you reckon? Not much to ask is it? My wislist is worth a few itty-bitty changes to the Early Years curriculum surely?

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