Today I went to a place with lots of toys, puzzles, scooters, jungle gyms and books. It has rooms, lockers and bright paintings, and holds so much opportunity for you, yet at the same time a little bit of heartbreak for me.
I was at your to-be-playschool, which I hope you’ll love, because I’m making one of “those decisions” that come with so many inner debates. I think you’re ready for more development and interaction (and Marie biscuits and peanut butter sandwiches), and I think you’ll be pretty cool and happy there. Thing is, you’re cool and happy at home too, and even though I work, home is still a known to me, where I can control things more than I can Out There. I fear the kids who might push you, or the toy you want to play with might not be available, and that makes me sad, but I realise it’s pointless trying to expect and want that I could protect you from all of life’s woes.
I feel you are ready to go – you’re more active and curious, but this change means, well, change, and sometimes that’s hard to get my head around. It also means you’re onto that next phase in life, which is both thrilling and terrifying. I know your “family” at home will miss you for those few hours each day, and you got a whole lot of love here, believe me, even in the form of sloppy Rottweiler kisses.
But as much as I’m scared, I’m a little excited too. I can’t wait to pack your bag, to fill up your locker, and to relish and save every single artwork you produce. There’ll be parties, there’ll be pals, there’ll be picnics, and there’ll probably be a bit of pushing and pinching now and again, but it will be fine. I think. I know.
I hope, as always, that I have the right footing as I stumble along the parenting thing. But instead of lamenting and overthinking, I’m going to do what every good mom does – find the coolest school bag to hang in your locker.