So, my baby started preschool today. He’s been very anxious about it, so he’ll attend for one morning a week until he’s ready to add one more morning. I was certain it would be very hard to leave him because he flips out if I close the door in the bathroom, telling me, “I want to be in there with you, mama! I love you!” That kid never gets tired of me, and it’s really something, since even I get tired of me now and then. He’s my baby.
We arrived, found the cubby for his stuff, and looked around the room. He asked me to read him a story, so, of course, I did. We assembled one puzzle.
It’s almost time for me to go. I’ll go, you’ll stay and play, then after you all play sleeping animals, I will be there with Carter waiting for you.
Cole’s round little face went blank, then I saw the wheels turning. His cheeks began to flush (he gets mad hives that’re hot to touch when he’s really upset) and his eyes watered.
I want you to stay here. With me!
I will stay a few more minutes. We can do one more puzzle. Then it will be time for Mama to go—but only for a little while. I will come back, always.
We did the puzzle. Cole looked up at me, his eyes bright with eagerness to be big, and a good dose of uncertainty.
Bye, bye Mama. I love you.
We hugged and I suggested he go to play nearer to the back of the room. I called once more to say a final goodbye, and we waved to each other.
As I walked to the car and crossed the crisscross walks I looked back once to be sure he wasn’t thinking twice about it all. But he stayed out of sight. I hope he’s enjoying himself. I know he’s proud of himself. He should be.