So we come to it at last – Will has started nursery. He went for an hour on Monday to start with, leaving me to mooch around Hungerford miserably, fingering the designer clothes in Jeanne Petite and trying to take my mind off the fact that I felt as though one of my limbs had been amputated. Will, of course, was absolutely fine, only crying a little when I first left (but was soon diverted by his new epi-pen that I’ve given the staff), and when I came to pick him up and he remembered that I’d left him in the first place.
Today’s the second ‘settling in’ day, where he’ll spend two hours over lunch. It doesn’t sound like much, but it’ll be the first time anyone has fed him lunch other than me. It’ll be the first time anyone else has cooked him lunch apart from me come to think of it. God.
I can’t come back to the house after I’ve dropped him off and I can’t sit in the carpark gibbering, so have procured one of Waitrose’s finest carrot cakes and am heading off to Amanda’s for tea and a chat in the hope it’ll help me come to terms with the fact that Will isn’t with me.
As Eddie says, it’s not so much the fact that he’s in nursery now, it’s a bigger change in the sense that this is the beginning of the end of an era and it’s going to take some time to adjust to.
William's First Year 