The School Production
I just got back from watching our youngest take part in the annual “Year 6 Production” – the final school event of her time at junior school. She leaves next month – moving on to the school that will eventually see her through exams, and out into the world.
While standing in the playground during the interval, I found myself talking to some parents I rarely see – reminding each other that some of our children have been together since their first day of school at four or five years old – some of them even earlier than that if they were in reception together. Now they are 11 years old, and leaving all of that behind. I'm really not sure where the time has gone.
One thing is certain – our youngest is growing up.
Tonight she appeared on the stage, and shone. The uncertain little girl that is often overlooked got the chance to show everybody what she has become. In many ways she is becoming the swan of so many fairytales – graceful, elegant, but also full of mischief. Oh, so full of mischief.
I keep wanting to tell stories about her – to tell you all about her, but as you may have noticed, the children have become something of a closed book in terms of the blog. Their story is their own to tell now. I often visit Facebook and hold my head in my hands when parents continue to live their lives through their children – stealing their news and achievements – sharing far more than they should. Stepping back, and giving your children their own stage, and affording them the chance to make their own way in the world is one of the most important things a parent can do, and yet so many don't seem to realise that.
Of course we will always be there to catch our children, to stand them up, and to set them on their way again. Of course we'll bail them out when they arrive home with no money in their pockets. Of course we'll run the washing machine and dryer at 2 in the morning. But we won't take away their achievements. We won't post their exploits all over Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, Flickr, and wherever else. Their story has become their own to report.
What you will find – from me at least – will be grumbles about standing on touchlines in the cold, or sitting up in the early hours while the dryer does it's thing, or washing up for the tenth time that day. I will grumble, but I will also get on with it.
I'm skidding sideways (as per normal).
Today is about a little girl that used to cling to my leg at the school gate, who ruffled her feathers for the first time tonight, and spread her wings for everybody to see – and I was incredibly proud. I'm allowed to be. I'm her Dad.