Boy Two was at preschool. Little Miss was in bed. For the final time, before my baby became a big boy, it was just me and Boy One. I choked back my melancholy, and asked him what would he like to do. I shouldn’t have had to guess, of course it would be his favourite. A train, for Pooh Bear. I gathered the boxes, he gathered the craft supplies. We taped and cut and painted, and from nothing appeared a train. A cargo train.
He proudly props it up on the outside table to dry, and I scoop him up, and we collapse into the day bed. I hold him tight, and breath him in. Tomorrow, it will all change. He’ll be a big boy, at big school. No longer will his world revolve around home and our activities. I’m being pushed to the periphery, and my heart is breaking. What will I do with my days, without my little mate, and his constant narrative of our day?
He looks at me and grins. “One more sleep, mummy!!”. His excitement is mounting, and I can’t help but smail back at him, my spirits lifted by his enthusiasm for the adventure ahead. “One more sleep, sweetheart, just one.”