Change

As I labelled up all of youngest son's news school uniform last night, I realised that this would be the 3rd time I had done this for him.
We've been through white, black, red collared and now red polo shirts for gym, a rainbow array of coloured rugby shirts and football jerseys and every conceivable style of school bag from vinyl book folder to industrial sized backpack. We started out with cute black pumps from Woolies and have now reached the stage of trainers the size of small boats.
God willing this will be the last new school we'll ever have to get used to. New buildings, new route, new classrooms, new friends, new mums, new teachers - all change , yet again.
As I watched his little blond head bobbing along the corridor heading off for an induction talk in the refectory, I marvelled at his stoic smile as he waved goodbye, a long way from home, then turned and headed back to the car. In the quiet of the front seat I shed a quiet little tear at the newness of it all . You see - some things never change.