That baby becomes a boy

Today I did the washing, the same way as many times before

But as I loaded the machine, something stirred, an emotion quite raw.

Because, you see, within the pile hid several extra-special pieces

A jumper, a shirt, socks and some shorts all still with brand-new creases.

Embroidered with a logo, blue, maroon and grey in colour,

They all made up the uniform for my son and my daughter's brother.

He would soon be wearing these with pride to his very first day of school,

A grin beaming from ear-to-ear has been worn every day leading up as a rule.

But as I poured the powder in and set that familiar setting,

I couldn't help but think of washing those tiny little leggings.

Five years ago, I was again in a laundry with a different job to be done

Tiny jumpsuits, singlets, and the leggings all piled up, waiting for Leo to come.

Drying on my mother-in-law's line in the fresh country air of expectation

It was hard to imagine the little person was almost here to end the gender speculation

That very moment I'll never forget, the first wash of my baby's tiny garments

The small reality as they blew in the breeze that we would soon be parents.

Today I stare in disbelief that that baby will pull on the jumper, brand new shoes and a hat

Head off through the gate, perhaps a smile and a wave, to his new adventure and, well, that's that.

With brains in his head and feet in his shoes, as Dr Seuss would say,

He can steer himself in any direction he might choose, today is his day, off and away.

Mothers would sometimes tell me about the first-day-of-school emotion.

“Not me” I always thought, I am not a mother to cause any commotion.

But as the pegs peg the uniform on the first day of thirteen years of uniform washing,

I understand the feeling of five-and-a-half years of a life now in need of blossoming.

That feeling of handing over, saying goodbye, the unknown between nine and three,

I now understand how that might bring a tear, even if I was always certain not to me.

Because, at school, there will be sad times without me and happy ones too

I worry, will my little man, born so tiny only five years ago really know what to do?

Will he make friends? Will others understand his unique take on life?

Will be the class's top scholar, the clown, or get into some strife?

So many questions to ponder and wonder about, worries, as well as some 'what ifs' to toy.

But all I can hope for as I pick up the empty basket is that that baby, I mean grown-up boy

Will take what we have taught him, be good to others and follow his heart.

Find what drives him, practice, and always listen to those with wisdom to impart.

Be patient and gentle, remember what is sown you reap,

To question things, be curious and never be afraid to leap.

To be his own person, not lose his incredible way

To imagine, be compassionate and, of course, have fun and play.

To live a life without a ceiling so the limits are never there

To challenge and explore and do his best but of course be fair

I know he is not leaving the country, I have not been quite that fooled

I know only between nine and half three it is that he is schooled

But it is hard to imagine all the things we have shared, done together and discovered

That now I won't be there for them all as he learns, socialises and new things are uncovered.

That washing is done now, all dry and inside, folded and ready for an inaugural wear

I guess now we just wait, let you go on as I put those new socks in a pair.

Just as we awaited your arrival into the world to fit those tiny baby outfits

We now await the person you will become as you grow through the school portraits

But enough now of the lamenting a small boy's education

I'll hand back over to Dr. Seuss to finish with this small abbreviation:

So...be your name Buxbaum or Bixby or Bray

or Mordecai Ali Van Allen O'Shea,

you're off to Great Places!

Today is your day!

Your mountain is waiting.

So...get on your way!