No sooner had we started school (and I say we because this is most definitely a family experience), than possibly my biggest test of motherhood yet (motherhood, because this is way above the radar of any self-respecting father) presented itself at the local Montessori. I had to rescue my ‘baby’ from the nappy brigade! In the throes of building works, it was difficult to notice anything other than my own primal screams and shocking bad mood at anything that crossed my path … and, of course, a mother always blames herself first when her child is unhappy.

Every parent believes that his or her child is advanced, so it is not surprising when I say that mine is. A two-and-a-half year old who has never used a potty, was out of daytime nappies before he had a conscious memory and who says things like actually, rather and prefer in his regular sentences is not your average two year old (and even less so when you consider the fact that this is a male child I refer to). He was lumped in a classroom (and I use the term classroom in the loosest sense of the word) with snotty-nosed, nappy-wearing, dummy-sucking, screeching, incoherent babies who used two-word sentences usually comprising little more than uppie or doggie (note: not words in my child’s vocabulary … of course not). Not even one term into the year and I noticed the regression. When he was forced to use a potty in the playground because the teachers don’t take kids indoors to use the toilet at playtime … I had to stage an intervention!

Many mountains have been climbed in my life but, at this stage, it felt like I was climbing the Himalayas … and then some. In one week I conquered the building peak, my book-publishing peak and the preschool peak. I steamrolled them, flattened them, made sure they knew that I was there and best I’m not ignored. The building work is far from perfect, my book print-run had me in tears, but my child … well, he is now with the 3 to 6 year olds and begs me to take him to school every day, including weekends. I did good by him and that makes everything else in my life pale into insignificance in comparison. These tests are meant purely as a mother’s coming of age. My first test came early enough for me to start getting used to the fact that this is a relentless life-long commitment with no shortcuts, cheating or easy outs.

My coming-of-age party is scheduled for sometime in 2030s.