Tomorrow Child A starts school, but today we went to the park to enjoy some late summer weather. The entire day I had this strong feeling for nostalgia for the moment we were in.
Today is a strange in-between day. It's a Monday, and the schools started back at the end of last week; but the first year children don't start until tomorrow, so we get this extra day off when everyone else is already back.
I've taken the day off, Child B's nursery is shut today, so the three of us take the train across town to the Stadtpark (city park). The weather is warm and sunny, just to annoy all those already back at school and work, but we're lucky to get to enjoy it without the weekend and holiday crowds.
At the station we buy some morning pastries from a baker, then wander through the shady perimeter woods, and across the festival meadow, under the gaze of the tall brick Art-Deco Planetarium, as it looks east towards the boating lake. Our destination is the large paddling pool and surrounding playground, that lie beyond the trees on the other side of the meadow.
We find a bench to sit on and eat the pastries, just as my brother meets us. Before getting in the water we do a lap of the sandy playground surrounding the pool. Each play area is thoroughly explored and clambered over; the swings, water pump, slides, pirate ship climbing frame, and on.
I help A get changed into their swimming clothes, put a sun hat on them, and wade with them into the paddling pool. B is unsure, and thinks the water will be cold, so stays with my brother and just watches.
A starts running and splashing through the water, I follow them, with the shallow water only reaching my calves, and already warm from the sunshine. Seeing A having fun, and waving to them, B decides they do want to try the pool, and once they're in loudly proclaiming "It's not cold at all!".
And that's what we do for the rest of the day. Apart for a short break for lunch and to try the nearby zip-lines, plus an ice-cream later, the children are happy to play together in the water and playground. They invent stories and rules for themselves, splash around and play with the fountain. As it's quiet, they're easy to see, so I can sit back on a bench and talk with my brother while watching them act out their adventure from a distance.
Most of the time I feel a strong nostalgia for now, this day, even as it's still happening.
Starting school is a big milestone, but it's easy for me to put too much significance into it, and see it as a hard boundary that separates the worlds of 'young child' from 'school child'.
A is excited to go to school, and looking forward to it. They already know some of their classmates from nursery, and they keep talking excitedly about being able to learn new things.
So I do hope they enjoy school, and I think for the most part they will; but schools, as an institution, are one of the least satisfying compromises you can experience. It's a contradictory mix of providing practical skills, academic skills, socialisation, day care, entertainment and life skills; all done to the impossibly tight budget that society seems to be prepared to pay. More money would surely help, and teachers work very hard, but sadly that can't remove all the inherent contradictions.
A won't change immediately, the child that's running around in the water now with B, pretending to find treasure on a tropical island, won't disappear overnight - but perhaps because this is the last concrete 'before' moment, I'm already wistful for the time that it represents the last moments of.
It seems like things will only get more complex for here on. Up to now what you had to do to keep them happy and safe seemed relatively straight forward (even if actually doing it isn't).
As they get older happiness and safety become a trickier balance. They should learn and experience more, and more independently. You can't hold them back, but at the same time they should not be allowed to run off and experience things without any support if they need it, and judging when they need it is another challenge, for them and us.
That future looks daunting, and the past seems simple, but perhaps it's no more complex than what we've already been through; it's just that we've become familiar with those challenges. In the same way that changing nappies, getting sleep (oh so little sleep), learning to walk, starting nursery and all the past difficulties seem smaller because we're managed to get past them, hopefully these only seem so big because they're in front us.
But before that happens, I feel like we've managed to sneak one more day of simple childhood into our lives, and I'm trying hard to enjoy it and not worry too much about the future.