The Mickey backpack and the lunch box are being shipped, school handbooks read, forms filled out, and I still find myself unable to wrap my mind around the fact that a school bus will stop in front of the house on Thursday and Cooper will enter the public school system. Although I know this is a positive step in the right direction, I am so scared for him.
My mind goes back to the day we tried dropping him off in the gym's daycare a year or so ago. We got called back 10 minutes later. He sat sobbing at a table while the other kids just stared at him like something was wrong with him. You never want your kid to struggle, to be stared at, to be hurt.
When I look at him I see all of the great things. I see the humor, the wit, his emerging imagination, his hugs, story time cuddles, the pure, unfiltered excitement he displays when he's participating in a preferred activity. I see his sense of accomplishment when he helps me with something, his love for my nephews, and the faces he makes when he's jumping on a trampoline or sliding down a slide.
I see my kid. My 3 year old. I worry that 3 is too young to start school, but then I think of the ways this will help him. He will get to be around kids his own age 4 days a week. He will be led by a teacher that seems to be a great fit. He will be surrounded by some of his favorite things-the alphabet, books, and craft stations. This day showed up a year and a half earlier than we anticipated, but haven't we always done things out of order?
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