You have wholeheartedly embraced the world of make-believe since I wrote your last update. You have an imaginary friend called ‘Sam Dan Incha Ramp’. We have yet to learn from you whether Sam Dan Incha Ramp is a person, an animal, or something else. All we know is that he lives in a house and he “doesn’t have a lady, or a baby”. You have a baby called Frin Tin Tin, who you like to look after, just as I look after baby Rory. You have an alter ego, named Dilly Dally, who’s house is in the toilet (conveniently). Dada, Rory, and I have all had to spend many an hour in Dilly Dally’s house, sitting on his “stinky sofa” drinking pretend cups of tea. Dilly Dally also has a car, a truck, and a train, and is always looking for people to sit in the passenger seats and shuffle along the floor to different destinations (really fun at two weeks postpartum).
The huge train obsession continues. Your latest thing is asking everybody which train they get to work. “Is it a fast or a slow train? Is it Overground or Southern?… First Capital Connect?” You know all the service providers in our area, which trains end at London Victoria, and which go to London Bridge.
You know all the different playgrounds that we frequent, and have started requesting which one you want to go to.
Lately, (well, I say lately, it started a couple of months before Rory was born), you have been getting rather bored and frustrated at home. I think you are perhaps ready for new adventures, and new challenges. Which is why Dada and I were really pleased to hear that you had got a place at preschool starting in September – we are so excited for you. You are very excited to be going too. Every time we’ve visited a preschool, you’ve ran in and not looked back – you are so ready for this.
Almost three years old and boy have you changed a lot this year.
I had in mind to write about the preschool thing in more depth at some point, but seeing as my blogging time is drastically reduced at the moment, I figured I might as well tag it on to the end of this post.
As soon as I realised I wouldn’t be going back to full-time work, I put Arlo on the waiting lists for all the independent preschools near us. (There’s a lack of preschools in our town, there are Surestart ones but their policy means Arlo wouldn’t be offered a place until Sept 2014, when he’d be about to turn four…and he is seriously ready now). So, our search for a preschool turned to neighbouring towns. Arlo was 16 months old when he went on the waiting lists, and at every preschool I was shown the vast list of names in front of his in the admissions queue.
It was a real longshot that he’d get a place anywhere. Places are so oversubscribed in London, you usually have to have their names on the list from 6 months old (some people even put names down when they are pregnant!) In one scenario, a boy had not been offered a place either year, so was going to start school without having any preparation in a preschool or nursery environment at all, against his mother’s wishes and efforts to find somewhere for him.
I’ve written before about how Arlo doesn’t spend much time with other children in his day-to-day life, and Sam and I feel that this is a really important thing to start focusing on now. So the preschool oversubscription thing was massively stressing me out. Fortunately for us, we were dealt a real lucky hand when our prefered preschool had a change of circumstances which meant some of their waiting list was freed up. Arlo has a place, and I am so relieved – this has been weighing on my mind for what has felt like the longest time.
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