Tonight, my heart is wearing a pair of deep-sea diver's boots.
Our youngest son starts primary school tomorrow and while I am trying my best to feel happy for him, I feel a bit lost.
The school will provide him with all his educational needs plus there are a few other children who are ready to welcome him. It is a tiny school with a dozen children.
His grandfather went to this school in 1919, his Grandmother taught there during the war.
His father and aunty attended during the early sixties. It was also Rosie's first school in 2001.
A long history between school and our family.
We cuddled after he had his Sunday night bath, toasting in front of the huge fire. It has snowed and is still snowing. The house is cold and draughty but the living room was warm and he was all wrapped up in the lovely quilt which his best friend and her Mum had made for him at Christmas.
He said that he was a bit worried about tomorrow as he did not know the other children properly. We talked about when he first started kindergarten and how he did not know the other children then but soon made friends, best friends.
He looked at his fresh new uniform which is laid out on the back of the sofa; all ready for a small boy to jump into in the morning. His new shoes, size adult 2... huge feet for a five year old laddie. His beloved schoolbag which he has worn non stop since I bought it last week, all packed and double checked for pencil case and play piece.
The duffle coat which first belonged to my eldest son, then Rosie, now his. All washed, aired and ready to keep another bairn warm for the winter.
We stared at the fire for a while, companionable silence, a quiet moment before a life change.
"Mum, there is one other thing but this is a secret" he whispered.
I listened carefully as he whispered in my ear...
"Watch yourself with thon wee black and brown bullock. It's a bit feisty, Mum".
His Dad took him up to bed and read him some stories until he fell asleep.
And my heart gently broke.