So, the last two weeks of school were CRAZY. Someone said that May is the silent December because of all the parties and gifts and last-minute obligations that come with ending a school year.
Very true.
Oh, and as I think I’ve mentioned once or twice or seven hundred times, our family passed around an angry stomach bug last week along with some ear infections/bronchitis/strep throat.
ANYWAY, this post is not about our our health.
This post is about Nate.
See this picture? This is Nate almost every single day of his last two years. Relaxing in his stroller, while I do lunch duty, drop-off and pick-up kids, bring birthday treats for the twins’ class (pictured above), and run other errands. The kid is a champion at hanging out and waiting. So content to sit on the sidelines and watch the kids doing their thing at school.
Until today.
Today Nate went to school.
Well, “Camp” actually at our old church, the sweet Preschool where our other kids went. After two years of being the dropper-offer, Nate became the dropped off. What a concept.
He did okay. I mean, he screamed and cried in confusion as to why he was STAYING at school rather than observing from his perch in his stroller.
But okay other than that.
I’m actually not sure why he was confused about being dropped off since I’ve explained to him no less the, 4 trillion times that “TODAY YOU ARE GOING TO SCHOOL!”
When my kids have a new challenge coming up, I have a tendency to over explain. It’s a gift. And a curse.
In other words, Nate may have done fine, but I had a little trouble with it. The thing is, all three of the other kids did Preschool two mornings a week at Nate’s age at this same school. But sending this little baby into the loving arms of the same teacher the other kids had was SO HARD. He’s such the little darling of the family that we tend to treat him much younger than his two years. Leaving him at school felt about as natural as dropping him off at college.
BUT here’s where the advantage of having so many kids comes into play. I remember dropping off Catie and Sam and Elisabeth for the first time. I remember these tears (theirs and mine).
But I also remember how sweet and caring the teachers were to our family.
And, wouldn’t you know it, those SAME teachers were there to intercept the crying Nate this morning.
Right along with his brothers and sisters, marching right in next to him.
