Thirty-One Months

Ah, September. The crisp morning air. The crunch of leaves under foot. And the start of your schooling career. There's no time like 2.5 years old to get you moving forward with your life's ambitions by embarking on some formal education. You started preschool this month, Jack, and you might have thought it was Disneyland, Legoland, and a construction site all rolled into one given how excited you've been by it. If you could go every single day, I think you would. And I think if you had the choice between staying there and coming home, we might not see you for an awfully long time.


Off you go twice a week with your Bob the Builder backpack and light-up Thomas the Train shoes all aglow. You can't seem to get rid of us fast enough when we drop you off. Like we are cramping your style with the preschool crowd. While other kids wail and sob as their parents try to leave, you quickly dismiss us once we've hung up your backpack and coat like the indentured servants we are. Of course, the opposite behavior takes place when it is time for pick up. All the little kids sit in the coat room and are told to cover their eyes. But none of them really do it well, so obviously this "education" thing isn't paying dividends quite yet. But, one by one, the parents come in to claim their little ones. The normal kids are so excited and happy to see their moms or dads that they call out to them. Then there is you. You begin crying the moment you catch a glimpse of either me or dad. You start jumping up and down in angst, begging us to let you play some more. Sometimes, we must carry you, screaming and kicking, from school. We are sure all the other parents must think we lock you in a two-foot square cell when you come home and feed you only day-old bread and spoiled milk every three days.


Regardless, we are happy you love school so much. Your passion and energy for life have carried over twofold to school and I hope that is something that continues throughout your life. Now, if high school doesn't have a train table and unlimited access to a plastic blender and penguins that can take turns being made into pretend smoothies, then I'm not sure how you'll respond. But, Jack, it has all happened so fast. Yes, I know it's only preschool. Yes, I know there are a few years before homework and sports and cliques and cracking voices. But still, you are a school boy now. Out there on your own taking on the world. I'm simultaneously proud and scared to death. I think that's what being a parent is all about, buddy. Letting go of those little hands and knowing you can do it yourself. Just try to look back at us and give us a reassuring wave once in a while.

Love,
Your Momma