Joanne Mace and her husband were among thousands of parents involved in milestone event on Monday

And across the Basingstoke area this week, thousands of children officially started their formal education in primary schools all over the borough.

Round our way, on the big morning itself, a tiny uniform was laid out in the living room, all ready for the little person who was about to don it, for a whole day – for day number one of Year R.

And the sense of occasion in our home was definitely palpable. For starters, my husband and I were both there, together, and our four-year old isn’t used to that scenario.

When you are parents who both work full-time, your child gets used to spending the majority of their week time with either one or the other. Our daughter gazed between us, clearly delighted by a full house on a Monday morning.

Even though she had already attended Kempshott Infant School for a few introductory sessions, she could sense that something big was in the air, especially because a close friend had arrived to see her off.

In addition, Daddy was pacing, trying to find things to occupy him, but repeatedly asking what time we needed to leave.

Before long, that very hour arrived, and the moment had come to set off.

Over the past few weeks, many friends have asked me how I have been feeling about it, and honestly, I have been remaining quite positive, hoping that she’ll settle in okay.

My mother always tells the story of how I danced into primary school on my first day without a backwards glance, but my daughter is her own, individual, person.

She is, in many ways, quite an anxious child, but she also possesses a will of iron – and a temper. When she doesn’t get to do what she wants to do, the heavens tremble in the face of her wrath!

But I had in the back of my head, the fact that she has attended full-time nursery for almost two years, and I feel that really broke the back of any separation issues we might otherwise have expected as far as school was concerned.

When she started at nursery and had to get used to being in a place with a roomful of other children, she screamed for a week and adjusted for a further three, before growing, over time, to absolutely love it.

And so it proved to have been the perfect preparation for spending an organised day in one place with a lot of other children.

Having already met – and idolised, as all young children seem to do – her teacher Mrs Jeffery, she was more than happy to move through the doors alone, wandering a little aimlessly in through the school before being guided by a helpful hand.

On the other side of the glass, her father and I stood like two nervous souls, wondering if she’d made it. Had she managed to hang her coat on her peg, put her book bag in the drawer and stash her water bottle in its proper holder?

In the end, we gave in, both agreeing that Daddy would pop in briefly to ensure that yes, she was in the right room getting herself organised. Isn’t letting go a nightmare?

But really, we were fine. I was thankful that we’d had our tears in years past, and I felt very empathetic towards those parents around us who were trying to prise a weeping little person from around their necks, reassuring them that everything would be okay.

I can only hope that these schooldays will be among the happiest days of our daughter’s life.

And judging by the happy face that greeted us come home time on day one, we’re off to a flying start.