On Your Last Day Of Preschool – Letter To A Four Year Old

Your First Day of 'Big Class'

Your First Day of ‘Big Class’ – You didn’t want to pose for a picture as you didn’t want to be late.

My most beloved big little girl

It’s the day before your last day at preschool and the world is changing again for you and for me. I watch you sometimes and the mannerisms, words and thoughts that come from you are no longer those of an infant or a toddler. I’m scared to say it as you are still only four but they are often barely those of a child and at times, when you speak, I feel like I’m faced with an adult – a short little grown up.

It’s strange for me, you know. I know this is your whole world and right now you are standing at the furthest reaches, the outposts of the world you know, standing on tip toes and stretching your hands out. Like a counter from which you can smell, but not yet see the chocolates. You think you see the whole world. All of life. And you feel so big, so ready for it.

I can’t imagine how I will feel when you reach the end of school, university, singledom, child-free, or when your little girl heads off to her last day of preschool. But I do know that on that day you will look at me and there’ll be a little understanding, a little sympathy for what my heart feels right now, when I look at you and see the smaller version of the future you.

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When A Two Year Old Makes A Phone Call

So picture the scene:

Aviya is crying, miserable and grumpy today. She’s got white gums and is clearly teething and in need of a nap. I’m making breakfast, and I’ve popped her down while I check on the food in the oven. Ameli is lying next to the home phone, which we never, ever use, ‘talking to someone’ as she often pretends to do. I pick up Aviya to get her to stop crying – now screaming, actually – and feed her. Ameli says to me, “Mama, I’m just talking to someone”, I say, “Okay darling.”

Aviya quiets down, and I can hear a distant voice.

I check my phone. Nope, keylock is still on.

I check my laptop. Nope, nothing open there.

My husband enters the room as I hear Ameli say “I’m two years old” and I say, “Is there actually someone on the phone??” My husband heads over, hears a male voice and hangs up!

I say he really should have spoken to the person just to see who the heck was talking to our daughter!

He picks up the receiver again, and the person is still there!!!! (HOW does that work?)

After a brief conversation he hangs up again.

Ameli had called 999 (emergency services) accidentally – we’ve never had the 999 talk –  and had a conversation with the emergency people. Because he could hear a baby crying in the background, he had alerted an ambulance to come to us!

Martin had to repeat that everything was fine about 10 times.

We’ve now unplugged the phone.

Dear Ameli – Letter to A Two Year Old

Dear Ameli

I’ve started this letter to you so many times already, and keep deleting what I’ve written because what I’m writing just doesn’t quite match up to the intensity I’m feeling. This has been a full-on month in our story.

You are two years old. We had a birthday party for you at home. It was a Winnie the Pooh themed party and despite being really tired, weak and still somewhat ill, I put on my best face for the day, and tried to make it a good day for you, whether you’ll remember it or not.Read more: Dear Ameli – Letter to A Two Year Old