Trial Run

This morning, just him and me.
A rare combination these days, but today is a special day.
This morning, hand in hand, we walk the two-minute walk round the corner and down the lane: as we'll do every morning from September 2nd onwards.
But today, it's the first time.

He's impatient, excited, a little nervous, but won't admit it.
His shirt is spotless and freshly ironed; there is no nappy-bulge under his smart trousers.
My baby is not a baby any more.

We are early: he couldn't wait, and our house is so close that idling is impossible.
But at the gates we discover we're not the only ones: two little girls are already waiting, parents in tow.
"Romane et Lou-anne", they reply solemnly, when I ask them their names.
Like BB, their eyes are round and serious and proud and excited.

In the classroom, there's so much to take in, it's hard to know where to begin.
He's cautious - a little intimidated by all these children with slightly longer legs, slightly broader shoulders, slightly more self-assurance.
But the call of the lego box is too strong: he overcomes his reserve and shuffles across, kneeling down to examine the treasures within.
A second later, he swings round, rosy-cheeked, checking I'm still behind him.

I crouch with a couple of the big kids: confident girls in various shades of pink, who want to touch my ear-rings and scarf.
BB eyes them warily: do they not know I am his Maman?

Then it's time to gather round for songs, a story, a guessing game.
Twenty bigger kids in a gaggle: the teacher presides over the throng with calm authority: BB observes the scene solemnly. He stares at the teacher, watching the curve of her mouth, listening to the tone of her voice, sizing her up.
He doesn't join in the song, but he listens. And watches. His little hand lies in my hand: not gripping, not tugging... not quite ready to let go.

Eventually, he shuffles off my knee to sit beside me. There is barely a centimetre between us, but it's there, that tiny sliver of space that means "I am a big boy now."
He turns to look at me, and his face breaks into a smile for the first time.
"Maman!" he exclaims with joy and surprise, "C'est bien la school!"