Thus, on September 2nd, Summer officially ends, holidays grind to a halt, sand is shaken out of shoes and everyone dons their Autumn attire (even though the temperature still reaches 30° most days: this "September = Winter clothes no matter what" mentality has always amused me).
Until now, we weren't too concerned by the "rentrée" in our household.
But this year - and probably for the 25 years to come - the "rentrée" will signify the end of some things, and the start of others, for us too.
Tomorrow, BB will start school.
As I iron the name labels (thanks Anita!) onto his clothes, prepare his backpack and his "dummy box" (a mini version of the ubiquitous lunch-box, and destined - as its name suggests - for safe dummy storage), I can feel the lump forming in my throat.
I tell myself it's not really such a big deal. School at this age is kind of just a glorified crèche, after all, isn't it?
But at the same time... I know it's more than that.
I know that I'm nostalgic for the big day that awaits us tomorrow, but also for all the other big days to come. All the other "firsts" that will mark his life and what is - essentially - his long, steady journey towards independence.
I smile as he bubbles with excitement. I bite my lip and nod as he tells me gravely "Maman, at school, I will say 'bonjour Maîtresse!' and be a nice boy."
I hope I won't cry. I know I will cry. That heart-breaking mix of vulnerability and bravery just gets me every time.
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