Big trouble in little China by Roy

The vast journey would take eons...

Warm clothing and most likely, hot beefy Bovril would need to be appropriated. Mental toughness and a willing to mix it with the strange people who reside there would need to be overcome. Huge, gigantic and very loud children of 3 and even 4 would be her new kin. Yes, it’s time to make the leap to the Big Room at Nursery.

[advert:mpu]Jumpin’ jellybeans is it that time already? Her sojourn in the baby room is a long distant memory lost in the mists of babygrows 'n' burping. She now laughs at the little citizens of the middle room like so many hobbits to be swept aside with a wave of a wizardly princess arm. She is officially ready to mix it with the big ‘uns.

‘I’m a big girl’ she’s says. “I’ve got a yellow frog as a coat hanger” which, these days is obviously the de-facto statement that your time at the big table is at hand (silly me for not being now-dad). But spare a thought for the little ones left behind. ‘Not everyone is a big girl’ ‘they have to stay in the little room’ are some of the kinder things I overhear, alongside a few sideways pitying glances maybe even the odd ‘I’m older than you’ smirk. I’ve also noticed a new confidence, borne of one whose time at the manor has well and truly arrived. ‘When you’re in the big room you get lots of flumps’ was one tiny entrepreneurial stab at muscling in on the tooth decaying sweety action.

So, here we are. The first day at the Big Room. Daddy does drop off. No major issues or even a mistimed right turn into the wrong room. No siree. I pour out some cornflakes helping the girls, who are overrun with both little and big ‘uns. I sit her down at the big table, the one she has already been hogging for months now. All her friends are there, excited conversations about worms, poopoo and party dresses ensues. Nothing’s changed. Phew. Still a few innings left yet.

Sidenote: This morning Gracie asked me how the sun worked. If you’d like a personal rendition of my spluttering, factually incorrect and frankly Armageddon inducing answer, tweet me up here.

Next: I hate nursery and want to go to the park daddy


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