"A letter to my son, as you get ready to start school."

It’s all about to change. This mum isn’t sure if she wants it to.

To my son,

You had your first school orientation session this morning, and in less than three months, you’ll be a primary school student. Of course, I’m looking forward to finally having the days to myself, after all this time. But I’m already tearing up as I imagine waving goodbye to you on that first day of school next year.

Our days of hanging out, just the two of us, are coming to an end.  Our picnics by the lake, feeding the ducks, me trying to stop you from falling in the water. Sitting in coffee shops, me with my cappuccino, you with your toast, sneakily sticking your fingers in the Vegemite. Me pushing you on the swing in playgrounds, you always wanting to go higher.

So many times you've told me, "Mum, you're my best friend." I know I've only got about three months of that left. I know that you're going to have lots of friends next year, because you're such a happy, chatty, easygoing kid. I know that in a few years' time you'll cringe if I remind you that I was once your best friend. I fear that in about 10 years' time, you might not even want to hang out with me at all. I hope it never gets to that point.

I can't believe that all these beautiful memories I have of the past four and a half years, of us giggling and playing and inventing our own worlds, all of them will probably be forgotten by you. All I can do is show you photos and tell you stories about what we did. I just hope that it's helped prepare you to have those kind of relationships all your life - good friends, happy times.

I love the way you ask me questions all day, every day, as if I know the answers to everything. "How many cats are there in the world?" "Where was I before I was born?" "Why don't they make real magic wands?" I love it when I can tell you the answers. I love it when we look them up on the internet together, and I find out new things too.  I never want you to lose that curiosity. I never want you to become cynical. I expect, at some point, you will think that you know it all and I know nothing. I hope it's just a phase. 

I love the way you leap off furniture and into my arms and hug me tight, even though I'm worried that one day I'll drop you. I love the way you want a hug and a kiss and a blow kiss at night. I know that soon you'll think blow kisses are babyish, and you'll probably be ducking your head to get away from the kisses. I hope you never try to escape the hugs, even when you're a teenager. I hope you grow up to be the kind of person who isn't afraid to hug and kiss people.

I'm so proud of you getting older and doing more things for yourself and starting school. But there's a part of me that wants you to stay four forever. I want to know you at 14 and 24 and 34 and 44, but I can't believe you'll ever be as perfectly lovely as you are now.

Love always your best friend,

Mum

What do you want to tell your kids before they start school?

Want more? Try these:

"My son started school, but I received the education..."

"Dear sons, don't make these 3 relationship mistakes. Love, Dad."

Follow iVillage on Facebook

When you become a parent, you don't leave your brain in the delivery suite. That's why mothers with kids of all ages come to themotherish.com; because they're still interested in news about entertainment, health, current affairs and food along with an inspiring and useful stream of parenting advice and support.

Most importantly, they come because they want to hear personal stories of parenting directly from other mothers, without fear of judgement.

[iv-signup-form]