Skipping Town

Dear Lucia, You've finished preschool last week! Three years--done. This was by far the hardest year to say goodbye to, for me at least. You had a pre-K year that was wonderful beyond words. Exceptionally warm and talented teachers, supportive and welcoming preschool community, lovely classmates and families, activities that fully embraced both fun and kindergarten prep. We couldn't have asked for more. On the way home from your last day, I asked you how you felt, anticipating sadness; but all you said, happily, was, "I feel like kindergarten." You loved this year but are eagerly anticipating the next big thing, which is as it should be. Month by month, you're becoming more of a five-year-old, curious and funny and so much yourself in ways that--I have to admit--have little to do with me. You still love reading books together, and your interest in identifying sight words is growing--my ambitious goal for the summer is to get you even closer to reading...

Dear Grets, Well, you did it: you made it through your first year of preschool. It started off dramatically, with so many tears and so much clinging and sadness. I'll never forget peeking into your classroom after your first day of school, expecting a happy, proud baby, and seeing instead your sad, tear-streaked little face, lips quivering, barely holding it together--and then you losing it completely when you finally caught sight of me. I don't think you've ever sobbed so tragically. We started your preschool experience by sobbing together as the other kids and parents milled about. Happily, things changed for you. For a while, you cried when I left, and I spent the first two weeks of school hanging out in a nearby meeting room just in case you needed me (you didn't). Eventually, you gave me sad, worried looks, but no longer cried. And then--it all clicked for you. You gave me a hug goodbye and traipsed into the classroom with nary a backward glance. I won't...

We got a snowstorm last night, a good three or so inches of snow. Lucia was beyond excited yesterday when the first flakes started falling. She was excited about the snow—but she was also certain that this meant Santa was coming imminently. Ever since Halloween ended, and I explained that Thanksgiving and Christmas were coming up, she’s been exclaiming “Santa is coming!! I want Santa Claus!” at random moments. I’m not sure where she’s picked up this fascination/excitement over Santa. I’ve mentioned Santa to her a few times, but I haven’t made a big deal out of it (it’s only November 8!), so she either remembers last year’s Christmas (unlikely) or is just picking up on the pervasive cultural explosion of Christmas now that the Halloween stuff is gone from windows and stores. Anyway, when she woke up to see the world covered in snow this morning, she squealed and shouted that she wanted to go outside to make snowballs. First, though, she had preschool. I took someone’s helping-mommy...

Today was Lucia’s first day at nursery school. Or preschool, or co-op preschool, or whatever it is they call it these days. This was a huge decision, one Andrew and I have been debating for a few months now. We thought the decision had been made for us—by June, when we moved out here, the places we researched were all full. But I made a few queries, put us on a couple of waiting lists, and then finally found an open slot at a very small co-op nursery school that I’d heard about from both new friends and neighbors. After a tour and a nice talk with the director, we made the leap. “Leap” might be a bit too dramatic a description; it’s just two days a week, two and a half hours a day. Still, it’s her first experience with a group of kids without me around, so it is a big deal for sure. I stayed the whole time today, not because I didn’t think Lucia could handle it but because we hadn’t officially enrolled; I’d agreed with the director that we could attend the first day to be sure t...