Playschool

“Ni Hao, Mummy!” chirped the Small Girl gleefully when I picked her up from Playschool a couple of weeks ago.
“Oh!”, I replied, puzzled. “What does that mean, Sausage?”
“It’s saying “hello” in China!” she said, jumping up and down as I opened the car door for her.

The Small Girl, it turned out, had been learning about the Chinese New Year - on our journey home, she was full of excited chatter about dragons and parades and Chinese soup, to which I listened in amazement. Now that she attends a Montessori class five mornings a week, she has been finding out about all kinds of interesting things, each week based around a different (and apparently quite random) theme: hibernation; the food pyramid; Thanksgiving. I love the fact that she comes home so enthused about learning, that she’s getting such a great head start for Big School (which is looming scarily in September). It’s a fantastic playschool, and we were very lucky to have stumbled across it.

I remember so clearly when the Small Girl started there: she was just over one year old and we decided to send her two mornings a week to socialise with other toddlers and to give me a bit of a break. Settling in was a tough process; I used to walk away each morning in tears, wondering whether I was letting my child down by leaving her wailing in the arms of a stranger. But she very quickly grew to love her time there, playing with her friends and engaging in exciting activities I simply wasn’t brave enough to try at home (playing indoors with sand and water, messing about with shaving foam, and sticky finger-painting with a gloopy mess of painty Reddy Brek). In the end, I felt it was one of the best things we had ever done for her.

And so it was inevitable that we considered doing the same for the Very Small Boy. I always declared that I would only send him if he seemed to have the sort of personality suited to it and luckily, he is very like his sister was at the same age – outgoing, sociable and full of fun. He completed his second two-morning week last week, and each time it got a little easier for him and for me. I still walk away each morning in tears, wondering whether I am letting my child down, but I know in my heart that it’s healthy to push him away a little; to help take his first Very Small steps towards independence.

After picking them both up from Playschool last week, driving home in the car the Small Girl and I had our usual chat about her morning, while the Very Small Boy listened with interest:

“What did you do in Playschool today darling?” I asked
“We learnt about penguins!” she replied.
“Penguins!” I said “and what can you tell me about penguins?”

She thought for a moment, then: “If you drop a penguin on its head, it dies!” she said theatrically. Then she leaned back in her seat and spent the rest of the journey looking thoughtfully out of the car window.