Nora had her last day of three-year-old class in preschool this week, and she didn’t shed one tear, even though she loves school. (I can’t decide whether she “gets” that it’s over — she can tell me about it in a way that is accurate, but she’s so emotionless about it that I have to think she either doesn’t understand what that means or she’s just a sociopath.)
I, however, blubbered about it an embarrassing amount, including in the arms of her teacher when she hugged me goodbye. It’s been amazing for me to see how far Nora has come in school this year. It’s far more than letters and colors — though she’s definitely gotten a lot of practice with all that. But she’s also learned to follow directions and complete a task, and she’s starting to navigate social situations without a grownup’s help. She understands taking turns and sharing and being kind — things I can talk about at home but that are hard to illustrate when there aren’t other kids around. It’s been a really great year. And, frankly, it’s been really nice for me to have three mornings a week free to concentrate on work and run errands that take 20 minutes, as they should, not three times as long as tends to happen when there’s a little one tagging along.
Nora will be starting a summer preschool program the second week in June, but that feels a rather long way off. Just enough time for her to get off her schedule and out of her routine. Just enough time for me to start going bonkers keeping her entertained and trying to get everything done amid a constant stream of “Hey Mamas?” all day.
But I know we’ll have fun. And as long as I keep the freezer stocked with popsicles, no one can possibly suffer too much.