The Final countdown: 7 sleeps ‘till school (but who’s counting?)

We’re Nearly There (Send Biscuits)

We’re in that magical time known as Not Quite School, But Very Much Over Summer. I’m whispering “seven more sleeps” like it’s a sacred prayer while the children ask for snacks every twelve minutes and insist they don’t own shoes. Any shoes. Ever.

Uniform Roulette: Returns, Exchanges, Repeat

I bravely lined them up for the Great Uniform Try-On: Director’s Cut.

• One pair of trousers fits… the neighbour’s child, probably.
• Two shirts are “itchy.”
• A skirt “doesn’t spin properly” (apparently crucial for education).
  I now have a carrier bag labelled TO RETURN, another labelled MAYBE, and a third labelled I GIVE UP.

Bedtime Bootcamp (Starring Caffeinated Owls)

We’re trialling school-night bedtimes. The kids: thriving nocturnally. Me: googling “Is yawning cardio?” By 10pm someone is suddenly very passionate about reorganising their Pokemon cards.

The WhatsApp Avalanche Begins

It’s not even September and the class chat has produced:

• A spreadsheet.
• A reminder for £2 (unknown reason).
• A rumour about Victorian Day (unverified, terrifying).
  I’ve muted the chat and will unmute when I’m emotionally stable (estimate: 2026).

Stationery: A Love Story

We own 47 pencils and none of them sharpen. I bought fresh ones and a pencil case that could double as hand luggage. Child reviews so far:

• Ruler: “Too long.”
• Eraser: “Smells weird.”
• Highlighters: “Can I lick one?” (No.)

Label-Palooza

I am labelling socks. Socks. Because last year one returned home on a Wednesday in March and I still don’t know where it went for six months. If you see a lone grey sock living its best life, tell it I said come home.

Lunchbox Negotiations (Pre-Season)

I pitched a balanced menu. They countered with “crisps, but in the shape of a meal.” We settled on fruit and crisps and I’m calling that diplomacy.

Practice Run (Because We Will Not Sprint… She lied.)

We did a practice school run. Lessons learned:

1. Everyone forgets something different every time.
2. Putting shoes on before getting in the car is non-negotiable.
3. I can shout “TEETH!” in three tones: gentle, stern, and banshee.

My Sanity Strategy (Highly Scientific)

• One giant calendar with clubs, PE days, charity £2s, and mysterious theme days.
• A tray by the door labelled PUT IT HERE OR FACE THE CONSEQUENCES.
• A personal reward system: survive the morning → hot drink that’s actually hot.

Mini Checklist (Print, Screenshot, Tattoo—Up to You)

• ☐ Shoes fit (on actual feet)
• ☐ Name in everything (yes, socks)
• ☐ PE kit located (not in the dressing-up box)
• ☐ Water bottles washed and reunited with lids
• ☐ Stationery stocked (no, you can’t take the glitter pen to maths)
• ☐ Bedtimes creeping earlier (ish)
• ☐ Snack truce agreed
• ☐ Calendar updated; soul prepared

Almost There…

We’re not at the gates yet, but I can see them glimmering in the distance like a mirage. Soon there’ll be packed bags by the door, semi-cooperative hair, and that first glorious day of adult conversation at work where nobody asks me to identify a mystery smear.