Nursery School

After a grueling selection process (we went and looked round), Eve has matriculated at a local OFSTED-awarded nursery. Today is her first day. I put her hair in plaits and tried to trim her fringe, but unfortunately she wiggled, and now it looks like her hair was cut by a flock of miniature goats. On speed. Nano-goats, if you will (you won’t).

Still, doesn’t she look excited?

What are you pointing at?

Eve models her backpack by pointing at... something.


Doing the Nursery School Charleston.

At this august institution of primary learning, Eve will tackle skills such as painting, gluing things on to other things, standing in line, sharing, and using the toilet. She will attend Mondays and Thursdays for the time being, although I have a feeling she will want more than that at some point. Whenever we drive past, she hollers, “WANT TO SEE THE FISHY!”, which refers to the nursery’s mascot, a fat goldfish named (I think) Butch. At our last orientation session, we bundled her into the car and drove off to the grocery store.

There was a long silence.

Then, from the back seat: “I want to go back there, please.” Which is probably one of the longest sentences she’s ever uttered.

You see? Learning already.



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