Writing -- Baby Talk: Playschool: The Return

The following article featured in a weekly column on parenting in the Women on Wednesday supplement of The Evening Echo, one of Ireland's leading regional daily newspapers. It appeared in the 15 September 2004 issue.

Summer holidays are officially over. The twins headed back to playschool last week, full of excitement at the prospect of playing games, singing songs, doing art and generally having fun with their classmates. They looked adorable leaving the house dressed up in their new clothes, their hair tied up in little plaits, both proudly clutching their new lunchboxes.

They're old hands at this playschool lark now, and spent a good portion of the last fortnight explaining to me how they plan to put their expertise to good use this year "helping" the play leaders with the "new children". This sounds like a great idea in theory, but the prospect of the twins mentoring younger children actually worries me. I've been on the receiving end of their help often enough to know that it's not necessarily a good thing.

After a summer without any imposed timetables trying to push the girls into some semblance of routine again is a bit of a challenge. Believe me, when three-year-olds get used to doing things at their own pace speeding things up again can be much more difficult than you might imagine.

After a protracted period of persuasion and encouragement, punctuated by the occasional threat of revoked toy privileges, we managed to get them and all of their gear out of the door with about five minutes to spare. I can't imagine what it will be like next year when we have to perform this little pantomime five mornings a week

There's no set formula dictating which of us gets the dubious honour of driving the twins to playschool. If one of us has something pressing to do then the other will usually oblige, otherwise it's literally a case of whoever's closest to the car-keys at the time. This morning I was the "lucky" one. I tied the twins into their car seats in record time, jumped into the driver's seat and hit the road. Traffic was light and we made it to playschool with about a minute to spare.

As I said goodbye to them at the door they were already beginning to lose interest in me, captivated by the myriad activities on offer and by the sea of new faces that greeted them. Before leaving I caught the voice of one of the play leaders asking the girls if they would help her by showing new children where the toys were kept. I didn't know whether to smile or grimace.

The trappings of the playschool curriculum have already started to infiltrate the house and our fridge is once again prime real-estate for their artistic talent. A constant flow of "masterpieces" will be displayed in our kitchen throughout the school year, and we're drawing lots to decide which parent gets to put the surplus into the recycling every week, and placing bets on who will be the first to get caught.

This time next year of course the girls will be starting school for real - an event that will also mark our entry as parents into the annual "back-to-school" fracas. Talking to friends with children of school age has made me realise that the innocuous sounding term "back to school" is actually code for "fleece the parents". We'll need to buy uniforms, books, stationary, bags, lunchboxes, shoes and all the other paraphernalia that marketers deem so essential to a child's academic success. And of course with twins you have to buy two of everything.

I guess it's time to start saving again!