Callum starts Pre-primary today. He’ll be going to school for a full day (9am – 3pm) for 5 days a week.

My husband – who seems to have a knack for perspective – said to me the other day, “You know what? This is it.”

“This is what? What are you talking about?”

“Apart from weekends and school holidays… this is the last time Callum will here, mucking about at home with you, all day without a care in the world. From now until he turns 17, he’ll be at school. This is his new life.”

Part of me jumped for joy, the other was utterly floored as I choked back tears for my little boy. Ah. Such bittersweet colours in the world of parenting.

We spent the last week buying school stuff, sticking labels on things, packing his school bag. I was determined to be organised, excited and a pillar of emotional support.

But my 4.5yo has been blessed by a cool, unaffected confidence about everything. When asked about his new teachers, new classroom, new activities, he just shrugs his shoulders and says “It’ll all be great mum.”