It was a big morning at la casa de Puddin. After months of debate, conjecture, and no small amount of parental fear, The Attitude strapped on his backpack after breakfast, smoothed his tiny, plaid, collared shirt, got his shoes tied, and boarded the family truckster for his First Day of Preschool. I’m told that when the Puddinette dropped him off, he bounded out of his car seat without hesitation, took his teacher’s hand, and walked straight into school. He didn’t even offer a tentative look back.
And just like that, for a few hours every week, our home will be oddly quiet. Temporarily freed from the constant noise and the scurrying of a variety of tiny feet.
The Puddinette will have the house to herself now, a few days out of every seven. I suspect for the first few she’ll be wandering around the house with a confused look, as if she should be doing something but can’t recall what. Either that or she’ll find excuses to stay away altogether for awhile, to avoid the unnatural, temporary quiet.
Preschool isn’t Kindergarten, though. It’s a small step out into the world for a few hours rather than a big yellow bus that comes and steals your most precious little things from you. As such, it doesn’t tug at me the way standing at the bus stop last August did. But then again, I’m not going to be home to hear all the silence bounce deafeningly off the walls. My wife probably has a different opinion.
Regardless, The Attitude survived his first day of preschool, apparently with flying colors. Truth be told, with his strength of will, I might have harbored…concerns…about putting him in a room with 15 other headstrong kids his age. But the kid has been asking to go to school for three weeks now, looking at his “Cars 2” backpack longingly every morning while his older brothers and sister strapped on their own on the way out to the corner. He’s been biding his time, waiting patiently for his turn.
His turn came today, and he seems to have grasped it with both hands. When the Puddinette picked him up, he was all grins and joy, as only a near-three year-old can be. Climbing back into his seat after his first adventure alone without meddling parents to guide him, he said to her–with absolute certainty–“go back to preschool.”
One big step forward; I can hear the clock ticking.
I’m glad I’m not at home where it would echo so loudly off the walls.