Skoolz

For such a young child, Maia has had alot of different nursery experiences - 4 in almost 2 years.

Rainbow Nursery, in Dunstable, was her first. She started at 11 months, and it was the perfect starter nursery for slightly freaked-out mums. The baby room was very calm, very open and bright, with a separate sleeping area with beds and cots. It also had a huge picture window running the length of the playroom so you could peer in and check that your baby was happy. Of course, if you managed to slip out without said baby flipping out, they saw you make a guilty dash to the car. But the intent was good.

Rainbow documented EVERYTHING Maia did during the day. They wrote out how many nappies she had (and described the contents) who she played with, how she played, what she ate, how much she ate, if she slept, how she slept, when she slept. It was reassuring, and also a little odd.

Her next nursery was in Castelldefels, just outside Barcelona. It was in a row of shops, very bright and cheery, and the ladies there spoke absolutely no English - which is totally fair enough, seeing as they were Spanish. My rudimentary Spanish can extend to quite a few situations, but they don't teach you the phrase for 'My daughter's soft toy is called Cuddle Bunny ' in GCSE language class. We managed to establish a relationship based on Spanglish and smiling and pointing and mime. They may well have told me everything that Maia did during the day, which would have explained the Lots of Talking when I came to pick her up, but she seemed clean and happy at the end of her day there, so we were good.

After our return from Spain, Maia joined the fabulous Funny Farm in Bedmond, just near Mum's old house in Abbots Langley. The front garden was home to numerous ducks and chickens, some of whom occasionally felt bold enough to jump into the car. Ruby, a fabulously playful sheepdog pup, and Romany, a Bernese (?) mountain dog bigger than all the children, ducks and chickens combined, roamed the back garden. The Funny Farm was all about the social - not alot of book learning took place, but Maia loved it. She came home filthy, and you had to ask what she had been doing all day, how she ate, did she sleep all in the time it took to haul her over the half-door and track down her coat. Maureen called her 'In House' for all the entertainment she provided, and they were genuinely sad to see her go. So much so, that on her last day she came home laden with presents and kisses. A gem.

So I was pretty sure Maia would have no problems settling in to a new school once we got to Sheffield. I chose a Montessori school that offered the right hours for our work, and that also had the right feel about it. After the freedom of The Funny Farm, I felt Maia needed something more structured, more geared towards skill building, to prepare her for school. Now, she loves it. At the start, she hated it.

They like to gently introduce children to the school at Collegiate Montessori. Over the course of forever (ok, maybe a week) they start with an hour in the morning, then two, then a full morning, then possibly lunch, then an afternoon session, then morning and lunch, then a full day. OK. Now, I understand the reasoning. I recognise that a gentle introduction is better, so that the child builds up trust in the place and the people, and is not traumatised by a feeling of abandonment. But we had just moved house. We were all pretty ill. I had begun to experience Maia-Overload, and that meant she was not getting the fun and stimulation she really needed. She had to go to nursery and play with kids her own age who were not trying to entertain her while unpacking.

She yelled for her entire first hour. And, actually, most of her second. I was worried they were going to say that she wasn't suited to the school. I tried to help by saying 'Isn't Mrs Hunt lovely?' feeling horrible as I did so. Her reply was a clear 'No.' Towards the end of the week, she began to soften up a bit, relax a little, not howl when we left.

Now, we are lucky if we get a goodbye kiss. She shucks off her coat as soon as we are through the door, happily stomps in, says 'Hello!' to everyone and makes a beeline for the craft table. She comes home laden with art, baking and tales of new buddy IsabelVerginty. She agrees that Mrs Hunt is, indeed, lovely. And do you know what? She is.