AN ODE TO MY THIRD CHILD

You are my lovely free range child. 
 
Off to school, on the bus.  Not for you the careful dropping off on the first day.
 
It is a case of double checking you have paper and pens in the morning, rather than covering and naming all your books a few weeks before school starts.
 
It is a scrambling of combining second hand and new uniform and wondering whether two pairs of blue socks and one pair of shorts will last all week, rather than dutifully decking you out with five pairs of new socks and two to three pairs of shorts.  More uniform will come as needed.
 
Forms that need to be completed head with you to school, rather than completed before the end of last year (as per school recommendations).
 
It’s telling you you’ll find out when you get to school where your home room is if you can’t remember, rather than bringing up a map and showing you.
 
It’s running around looking for the folders I bought you, only to find out your sister has taken them to school the day before to use.  And then having your sister help you work out what you can do instead.
 
It is looking at your hair and saying that will do, rather than worrying about it being perfect for the first day.
 
You are my lovely free range child.  You have less parental angst put upon you.  You have both the help and advice (asked for or not) of your siblings.  You have the benefit of my experience and my learning from those siblings who have trod the path before you. 
 
You have more freedom, in part because you have demanded it. 

​You are less fussed over, but you are well and truly fiercely loved. 
here to edit.