Across Canada and the United States, parents are feeling the pressure as their children head back to secondary school. I am less than a day from sending my oldest son to secondary school for the first time.
It is a change I am not ready for, in every imaginable sense.
Emotionally, I'm not prepared for my bright‑eyed little boy who still calls me "Daddy" to become a lumping great brute who exclusively refers to me as "Bruh".
But in a practical sense, I have only just realised that I have done almost nothing to get him ready.
The scramble for school supplies
Oh sure, I started the summer holidays with the best of intentions. The first week after primary school ended, I embarked on a rigid plan of action that would see him fully prepared for secondary school. We dropped a frightening amount of money on a new uniform. We started taking daily walks to and from his new school gates, so that he'd feel comfortable getting there under his own steam. We downloaded all the apps the school told us to. Everything was going to be perfect.
Parents in Toronto and Vancouver report similar last‑minute trips to local stores for items like protractors and school‑required socks. I don't think I used a protractor once, but his school is very clear about him having one, maybe it's the law now.
But then I blinked, and now it's September, and I somehow haven't done a single other thing. I awoke with a start last night because I realised that he doesn't have the right‑coloured socks for the school, or a green pen, or a protractor. The school was very clear about him having a protractor. Sure, I don't think I used a protractor once during my entire time at school, but maybe things have changed. Maybe it's the law now.
And I don't want him to be the only kid in school without a protractor, do I? What sort of parent would I be to leave him exposed to such geometry‑based bullying from his better‑equipped classmates? So now, pretty much the second I hit my final full stop on this piece, I'm going to race to my nearest high street to try and figure out where you can buy protractors. And not to disparage my local high street too much, but if it turns out that you cannot buy protractors at either mobile phone repair places or vape shops, then I'm going to be absolutely screwed.
Personal reflections on growing up
Where did the summer go? If only that were it. Earlier today I realised that my plan to teach my son how to tie a tie got similarly lost to the mists of summer. He's never had to wear one before, and, realistically, unless he ends up getting a job at a casino, he'll almost certainly never have to wear one again, but that's another thing I'll have to teach him at speed this afternoon. And I have a nagging suspicion that neither of my kids took their lunchboxes out of their bags six weeks ago, which means that tonight I may well open them up and do battle with whatever lifeform best thrives on mouldy apple cores and rancid crisp packets.
At least I can take some comfort in the knowledge that I'm not alone here. A survey this month found that three quarters of parents see the start of September as the most challenging time of the entire year, with a fifth of us letting summer pass without getting the basics sorted. Like haircuts, for example, which I've just remembered is another thing I haven't done.
There's no end to it. A week ago, both of my kids looked fine. A little dishevelled, perhaps, but nothing too urgent. But now, knowing that they're going to meet their new teachers for the first time, I'm suddenly worried that I won't be able to get a brush through it any more.
My better instincts know that this is all fine, of course. This mess is entirely salvageable. It will only take a couple of minutes and a handful of tantrums (largely mine) to get their nails cut. Doing up a tie is an easy enough thing to learn. I'm 80 per cent sure that I can get to a branch of TG Jones to buy a protractor before the company collapses into administration. Maybe if I send him to school with a note, my son will be able to get away with wearing very, very dark grey socks rather than the mandated black ones for a couple of days. Everything will be fine.
Read More Whether or not I'll be fine is another matter entirely. Last week, while cleaning out the cupboard under the stairs, I stumbled across my son's baby carrier. I can remember carefully strapping him into it for the first time like it was yesterday, and now he's somehow old enough for secondary school.
He's already nearly as tall as I am. Before long he'll be shaving, or getting drunk, or leaving home altogether. My little boy. I'm really not ready for any of it.
Stuart Heritage is a journalist and writer, including his ODD Squad series of children's books.