I planned everything for the first drop-off. Uniform laid out the night before. Name tapes ironed into everything, including the socks. Bag, snacks, brave face. I rehearsed the goodbye in the car like it was a job interview.
I planned everything for the first drop-off. Uniform laid out the night before. Name tapes ironed into everything, including the socks. Bag, snacks, brave face. I rehearsed the goodbye in the car like it was a job interview.
None of it helped.
My kid walked in without looking back. Years of being someone's whole world, finished in about four seconds.
I stayed at the gate. The other parents stood in groups that already had names. I stood on my own, staring very hard at nothing, because I was not going to cry at a school gate. I was losing.
Then someone next to me said, you smell amazing, what is that.
Six words. The first anyone had said to me all morning. And the one thing I hadn't planned. Rolled on at 7am, on autopilot. I'd forgotten it was even there.
We talked about pretending to be fine. We talked until the playground emptied. Swapped numbers. That was the first drop-off. There have been hundreds since. We've stood at them together.
That bottle doesn't really smell of perfume to me anymore. It smells of being rescued.
Still there at the gate
Most fragrance is gone by lunch. Around 10% oil, built for the first hello and nothing after it. Nobody stops you at pick-up to ask about something that left at midday.
Ours rolls on in a second and sits close to the skin from the morning run to the afternoon one, which is why it's still there when someone finally stands next to you. Nine scents, each in a 2ml you can try before you commit.