My Heart is breaking. It’s tough being four 

I’ve just sat down after lying in bed with R. 

She’s fast asleep now. Hopefully dreaming of all the things she loves.

Half an hour ago though it was a completely different story.

She was really upset. Crying. Inconsolable. 

My words had no effect. 

All I could do was hold her in my arms. Shush gently and tell her that I was here. Right next to her and that I wasn’t going anywhere.

It’s come totally out of the the blue and I’m putting it down to tiredness. 

God, I really hope it is just tiredness and not the start of a new phase.

What’s caused her to be this upset?

School.

She’s four years old and up until this morning, she’s given mummy and daddy the impression that’s she enjoying school.

Her and M have settled in so well. 

Their teacher has said that they’re both doing well. They’ve both come out of school happy most days and most mornings they’re excited to go.

Tonight, as I held R in my arms she pleaded with me to let her stay home tomorrow.

I just wanted to say yes, of course you can stay home tomorrow, but sadly it doesn’t work like that does it. 

If I allow her to stay home, she’ll then want to stay home the day after that and the day after that, and I can’t allow that. 

I’m really hoping it’s just because she’s tired. 

Last week was their first full week, and I get it. It’s tough.

It’s so tough being four and having to spend six and a half hours away from your mummy and daddy.

Away from home. Away from your security blanket. Away from familiar surroundings and familiar people.

I’m so glad R and M have one another in school. They’re in the same class which offers me so much peace of mind, but I can’t help feeling like my heart is breaking a little tonight. 

Last week, M, came home from school telling us that she’d cried because she wanted to come home. 

What do I do?

I’m their mum. I want to make things better. I want to take away their fears, but I can’t.

All I can offer is a warm cuddle and some carefully chosen words about how much fun they’ll have in school, and about how many friends they’re going to make.

Deep down inside, I just want to keep them home.

They’re four. 

They shouldn’t even know what stress is. They shouldn’t know what worry is. They shouldn’t be feeling these things, but they are and I hate it. 

I hate it.

I hate it.