If yesterday was summed up into one word it would be "Proud".
It was a busy day. Charles went to Preschool in the morning, always a rush! And then in the afternoon he was due to have his preschool boosters.
I was dreading the day. I had very little sleep, in fact for a long time I've been coping on very little sleep and it's now starting to catch up on me. Sunday night though I was faced with a very awake baby who just kept wanting to play, who wouldn't go to sleep without a boob in his mouth.
Charles has had a slight cold the past 2 weeks, I worried that his school photo would be taken with a streaming nose. I really wanted to stay with him, to be ready to be on nose wiping duty, but also to tell him to smile. I worried that he would be too shy or go all silly and we'd end up with a photo of him with a straight face.
I almost told the preschool not to worry about having his done. Afterall, I didn't want to buy any because I can take photos of him in his uniform at home. I have some lovely ones from his first day in particular.
Knowing his key worker has a child too I thought I didn't need to mention the nose wiping if needed and surely someone could get him to smile, and if not, it didn't matter when I didn't want to buy them anyway.
The whole morning I kept wondering what he was doing. Was he now having his photo done? Was he smiling? Was he sat being quiet and grumpy?
The time came to collect him. I was suprised to be greeted by his keyworker with an envelope.
Look at these! These are his photos!!
Inside this envelope was a sheet of paper with passport sized proofs.
As we looked at the four photos together she sounded as proud as me. He was smiling in all of them, and more than that, he was POSING.
I had absolutely nothing to worry about.
I was bursting with pride and had to hold back tears until we reached the lane where I grabbed him for a cuddle and told him how proud I was and started to cry.
I looked at the pictures he had painted at school and in there was a perfect rainbow...perfect for a three year old anyway!
"It's beautiful isn't it, mummy. Of course it is, mummy, I made it"
He skipped and ran home, thoroughly enjoying his morning at school, chomping on the small stick of rock all children were given as a reward.
I couldn't be prouder of him. And I couldn't love his preschool anymore than I do.
I felt awful when we got home. Here was my boy, on a high from his amazing morning, having his "cool photos taken because I am cool" (his words) and in 2 hours time we would be taking him for his injections and causing a meltdown and screams and tears.
I prepped him as much as I could, and he seemed to understand what I was saying.
He ran into the doctors surgery, kept singing and playing whilst we waited for his name to come up on the board.
As soon as his name beeped onto the board he ran down the corridor towards the nurses room. He still seemed quite excited and I felt sorry for him with the shock that was coming.
He sat on my knee and the first needle went into the top of his arm. I prepared myself for a scream.
Nothing.
I looked at him and he was smiling, with a slight giggle.
The three nurses all laughed and said they couldn't believe he didn't cry, but that he definitely would with the second because it is the worst one.
So, in went the second one. He flinched a little and then....nothing.
No tears, no screams.
Everyone cheered him and told him what a brave boy he was.
He got a sticker and was able to choose a bag of Magic Stars or Buttons.
And off we went home.
He didn't complain at all and just kept reminding me that he is a "big brave boy".
As he ran into preschool today he headed straight for his keyworker and proudly showed off his plasters stating "I didn't even cry!".
She was proud of him and told him he was so brave and so grown up.
And the fact that she is proud of him too, makes me even more proud.
