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August birthdays and why it really doesn’t matter

1
For a whole micro-generation of parents the next few weeks will be dominated by an endless stream of admin as they prepare to send their four year old off to school for the first time. As August flies past there is a list of jobs to be done from buying uniform, getting feet measured for new shoes, signing up for breakfast club and after school club and getting to grips with the logistics of a new morning routine.

And that’s before addressing the emotional upheaval as you get your head round the fact that this little person is going off to school at

SelfishMother.com
2
all.

But for some of us there is another small but enormously significant event to add to the mix: A fourth birthday.

Ah, the August babies.

If you are expecting a baby in the next month, and have spent a single second worrying about how your little one will cope when it comes to starting school, please do not give it a second thought. Here’s why.

When we found out we were expecting an August baby back in late 2012 I thought the only thing worse as a birth date was being born at Christmas. (Honestly, the mind boggles when I think of the

SelfishMother.com
3
vacuous things that concerned me back then.) My poor child would be the smallest in the year. They would struggle academically. They would be socially immature. If they were sporty they’d never be picked for any team because they’d be so much smaller than the other kids in their age range. And so on.

[This was just after the London Olympics and I had read a stat that said some huge proportion of gold medal winners at the Games had birthdays in October. MY CHILD WOULD NEVER WIN AN OLYMPIC MEDAL!!]

When he was born, a week shy of September, our

SelfishMother.com
4
baby was happy and healthy and I was floored by relief and gratitude. (A feeling that has never left me, as shallow as this post has made me sound so far.)

At just three weeks old we took him to the first birthday party of Isabelle – a gorgeous little September babe who was toddling and babbling and growing rapidly into the most fabulous little firecracker. I was briefly staggered that the tiny, sleeping creature in my arms would one day be in the same school year as the birthday girl. The disparity in their size and abilities was incredible. How

SelfishMother.com
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could he ever catch up?

Yet over the years I’ve watched as, bit by bit, he has done exactly that. He has caught her up to within an inch (or two) in both size and ability – to the point that there is little she can do that he can’t. Sure, she can write her name with ease – he has yet to master the idea that all the letters need to run one after the other, not dotted about the page – and she can swim and does ballet, but when it comes to their hilarious chat, their imaginative play, their tearing around the playground and climbing to great

SelfishMother.com
6
heights before leaping off with abandon, they are pretty much on a par. And socially they are great together – they are as thick as thieves from the minute they are reunited, happily engaging in make believe and one-upmanship in equal measure.

I was reminded of all this yesterday when I was reading the Sunday papers and saw the list of famous people whose birthdays fell this weekend. Emily Bronte and JK Rowling. Henry Ford. Arnie. Sam Mendes. Yves Saint Laurent. Sporting superstars Jimmy Anderson, Hannah Cockroft, Justin Rose, Jason Robinson and

SelfishMother.com
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Daley Thompson. (So much for my theory.)

You get my drift.

Today, I haven’t got a single concern about our little man turning four and trundling off to school a mere 12 days later. He couldn’t be more excited. He couldn’t be more ready. And I couldn’t be more proud of him. Whether he leaves school at 16 to learn a trade, heads off to university at 18 or sets off round the world with a backpack, I don’t care. (I’m lying – if he sets off round the world I will be distraught, make no mistake.)

I have no idea what the future holds, but

SelfishMother.com
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that’s just the point. The world is a pretty crazy place right now and the future for our kids’ generation is looking unpredictable at best. Their best defence will be to never lose the traits that make them so utterly brilliant right now. So Henry, stay kind, stay inquisitive and stay funny. Everything else is just noise.
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- 31 Jul 17

For a whole micro-generation of parents the next few weeks will be dominated by an endless stream of admin as they prepare to send their four year old off to school for the first time. As August flies past there is a list of jobs to be done from buying uniform, getting feet measured for new shoes, signing up for breakfast club and after school club and getting to grips with the logistics of a new morning routine.

And that’s before addressing the emotional upheaval as you get your head round the fact that this little person is going off to school at all.

But for some of us there is another small but enormously significant event to add to the mix: A fourth birthday.

Ah, the August babies.

If you are expecting a baby in the next month, and have spent a single second worrying about how your little one will cope when it comes to starting school, please do not give it a second thought. Here’s why.

When we found out we were expecting an August baby back in late 2012 I thought the only thing worse as a birth date was being born at Christmas. (Honestly, the mind boggles when I think of the vacuous things that concerned me back then.) My poor child would be the smallest in the year. They would struggle academically. They would be socially immature. If they were sporty they’d never be picked for any team because they’d be so much smaller than the other kids in their age range. And so on.

[This was just after the London Olympics and I had read a stat that said some huge proportion of gold medal winners at the Games had birthdays in October. MY CHILD WOULD NEVER WIN AN OLYMPIC MEDAL!!]

When he was born, a week shy of September, our baby was happy and healthy and I was floored by relief and gratitude. (A feeling that has never left me, as shallow as this post has made me sound so far.)

At just three weeks old we took him to the first birthday party of Isabelle – a gorgeous little September babe who was toddling and babbling and growing rapidly into the most fabulous little firecracker. I was briefly staggered that the tiny, sleeping creature in my arms would one day be in the same school year as the birthday girl. The disparity in their size and abilities was incredible. How could he ever catch up?

Yet over the years I’ve watched as, bit by bit, he has done exactly that. He has caught her up to within an inch (or two) in both size and ability – to the point that there is little she can do that he can’t. Sure, she can write her name with ease – he has yet to master the idea that all the letters need to run one after the other, not dotted about the page – and she can swim and does ballet, but when it comes to their hilarious chat, their imaginative play, their tearing around the playground and climbing to great heights before leaping off with abandon, they are pretty much on a par. And socially they are great together – they are as thick as thieves from the minute they are reunited, happily engaging in make believe and one-upmanship in equal measure.

I was reminded of all this yesterday when I was reading the Sunday papers and saw the list of famous people whose birthdays fell this weekend. Emily Bronte and JK Rowling. Henry Ford. Arnie. Sam Mendes. Yves Saint Laurent. Sporting superstars Jimmy Anderson, Hannah Cockroft, Justin Rose, Jason Robinson and Daley Thompson. (So much for my theory.)

You get my drift.

Today, I haven’t got a single concern about our little man turning four and trundling off to school a mere 12 days later. He couldn’t be more excited. He couldn’t be more ready. And I couldn’t be more proud of him. Whether he leaves school at 16 to learn a trade, heads off to university at 18 or sets off round the world with a backpack, I don’t care. (I’m lying – if he sets off round the world I will be distraught, make no mistake.)

I have no idea what the future holds, but that’s just the point. The world is a pretty crazy place right now and the future for our kids’ generation is looking unpredictable at best. Their best defence will be to never lose the traits that make them so utterly brilliant right now. So Henry, stay kind, stay inquisitive and stay funny. Everything else is just noise.

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Mother, wife, sister, daughter, writer, cook, seamstress, housekeeper, husband-manager. Renovating a house, holding down a job, raising two phenomenal humans. Having fun.

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