My baby boy started school today.
It was his very first day of a three-year-old preschool program. In other words, he left me to spend the morning with a woman I barely know. I’ve been preparing for this day since September. Back then, I decided to wait a semester since he is a “late” three (August birthday) and I wanted him to be completely comfortable with the potty training. I don’t think I give my kid enough credit. He was probably ready to go to school back in September. But, let’s face it, I wasn’t. His official first day was supposed to be last Tuesday. But he woke up with a nasty cold, so we delayed a week.
Today was the BIG DAY.
He woke up a little earlier than usual today. He was excited. He had banana bread (his favorite) with a side of bananas (one slice, maybe) and blueberries (three) and a big glass of milk. He got dressed and watched me put his lunchbox into his backpack and then I think his nerves started to set in. The difference with Bean now, compared to when he started the Sports Class in the summer, is that he can really express his feelings so much better. He can say that he’s nervous. He told me he might cry, but “just a little bit.” He wanted to go, but he might want me to stay too. He needed a sip of water so he would feel better.
We arrived at school a little early so I could show him where to hang his brand new fire truck backpack. He loved when he saw his name above the small hook on the wall. He saw some Thomas trains to play with so that was awesome. He tried out the bathroom and hated the loud fan and the big boy seat (no kiddie insert like at home.) That made ME nervous, but it was time for Mama to leave. I kissed his cheek, said I loved him, and he sat down at a tiny table. The teacher tried to distract him with crayons so I could scoot out, but I could hear his small cry and call for me as I turned the corner. I didn’t cry. I just listened to make sure he stopped crying. He did. I peeked one more time to see him coloring and smiling, so I left. My baby boy was now at school. Okay, maybe I cried a little just then.
When I picked him up FOUR HOURS LATER, I got the biggest hug and peanut butter faced smile. Yes, he ate his sandwich. But nothing else. He wanted to eat the rest at home. The teacher said he did GREAT. Sure, there were some nerves here and there, but overall, just great. Now Bean is giving up the monumental first day of school information in frustrating bits and pieces. There’s some fun clean-up song he’s been trying to sing. He told us he said “Amen” at chapel time. He sat on big letters on the floor. There was some type of guitar in music class. He forgot the name of a friend he made.
The hardest part is not knowing exactly what he was doing all day at school. It’s hard knowing that my son was doing things, learning things, seeing things, experiencing things and I wasn’t there. I may never really know what he loved best, what made him nervous, what made him laugh. He’s letting go of my hand, one finger at a time. I hate it. I love it. This is what it’s all about. The first independent step out into the big world. He did it. I’m so proud of my little man.
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