Miss B started nursery in September. My baby girl is not really a baby any more, even though she’s still only 3. She doesn’t like that she’s still only 3. ‘Why am I still only 3 and a ‘baby’ half, Mummy?’ She wants to be 4 and she wants it now!
Quite naturally (I hope), I have noticed the difference between Little S at school and B at school. Of course they are both different, which I’m glad of, but I find it interesting to see how they cope with situations in their own way.
I think I’ve kind of got used to S not having friends. Ok he has friends, the children whose parents I befriended and spent many days drinking coffee and chatting with, whilst the children trashed the bedroom or jumped on the trampoline. But he doesn’t really make friends himself. No endless requests for playdates. Not many parties. No he said/she said spats to console him over. It’s ok though, because he’s happy like that.
Miss B, my gorgeous darling Miss B, is totally different. Within weeks she knew every other child in nursery. She is always telling me about her friends and what they’ve done. All the fallings out, what they’ve said, the nice things they’ve done for each other and the games they’ve played. It’s been a real eye opener.
It’s weird though, I’ve been a bit nervous about this stage in my daughter’s life. I worry that she will fall out with friends, that she might get left out or picked on. I worry that she will be the one who picks on the others. She is a lovely, sweet little girl who hates to see someone upset. But she also won’t stand for any nonsense, and you’ll know this if you’ve ever been on the receiving end of hands on the hips and ‘the look’.
At the moment I’m trying to leave her to it. I’m resisting getting involved in fallings out, because I know that the next day they will be friends again. I’ve started working at the school during lunch, and I’ve seen enough squabbles to last me a lifetime, but you can guarantee before you start dealing with the next one, children have made up and forgotten about it.
It’s all part of growing up, isn’t it?