Smith's last day of preschool was just like every other, a routine that has rarely deviated in the past three years; he made sure to pack Foxy in his backpack, he climbed the stairs, hesitantly watching to make certain Roo and I were following, he switched his shoes and I walked him to the bathroom, we headed into his classroom to answer the 'question of the day', I watched until he finished his drawing, helped him choose an activity, then a final kiss and hug before I left. There was no special celebration or graduation ceremony, the school believes those events can be too stressful for some children... a policy that might make me roll my eyes if I didn't have the kid that cries when people sing him 'happy birthday'. The whole morning felt so unexceptional that I had to keep reminding myself a chapter was ending.
I have had this feeling about so many milestones in parenting; crawling, walking, eating, talking, weaning, going to school, making friends, moving through fears and patterns... I always anticipate these transitions far in advance, I struggle to visualize a new reality that seems impossible and cling to the current state with premeditated nostalgia. I cry and grieve a threshold that hasn't even come to pass, and then suddenly, I find myself moving through to the other side with shockingly little sentimentality. I deeply want to acknowledge this big shift and be present, to feel all the feelings, but instead it's just life marching forward. Just another day, different from the last.
smith's first day of 4-day preschool / september 2015
smith's last day of preschool, ever / june 2016
*Memory Lane: first and last day of 2-day preschool / first day of 3-day
Okay, on second thought, maybe I will cry. And on that note, the poem Smith's classmates wrote about him (Smith = W).
The important thing about W is that he is our friend.
He knows a lot about dinosaurs.
He likes to play in the block room.
He likes to run down the hill.
He likes the Burj Khalifa in Dubai.
He likes to build tall towers.
He's friends with James and Henry.
He's good at coloring.
He's friends with me.
He likes to build.
He knows a lot about architecture.
He likes to play in the loft.
He knows a lot about animals.
He likes playing with sticks.
He really likes funny stories.
He's silly.
But the important thing about W is that he is our friend.
I do still wish all school could be like preschool. Next stop, Kindergarten!
Those pictures! Ah, I wish I had been better at recording those firsts and lasts. I love the last two, and I love the poem. He knows a lot about architecture!
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