Last Friday I fulfilled my duty as a mother and on the last day of preschool I forced David to stand on the porch with his school bag, stare directly into the sun, and let me take photos.
Since I happened to be two days past my due date, the night before the last day of school I gave my mom, dad, husband, son, the family dog, and mailman instructions about David’s preschool routine. Here’s the school address, teacher’s name, school bag, drop-off routine, pick-up time, oh, and if all this sounds too stressful just don’t worry about it. It’ll all be fine.
Thankfully, I’m still pregnant so David’s preschool routine wasn’t disrupted. Whew. We’re all so relieved.
We loved both of David’s teachers this year, and were so sad to find out that they’re retiring. David is two for two on teachers; his two-year old teacher stopped teaching last year, too.
We’re choosing to not read too much into the coincidence.
David doesn’t talk about school without talking about how, this year, his cousin Caleb was in his class. When I asked if they sang songs or played outside or went to chapel, David go on a rant about how he didn’t get to sit next to Caleb during snack. And each time I’d be shocked, horrified, and alert all the major media outlets, “DID YOU HEAR? DAVID HAD TO SIT NEXT TO SOMEONE ELSE WHILE HE ATE HIS PRETZELS!”
David and Caleb are an unstoppable force. They are each other’s best friends, and when they play they morph into a bizarre high-energy alter-ego that cannot listen to instructions and is marked by a silly voice (which, hilariously, he can’t do on command). By the end of the school year, every morning Aunt Lindsay and I would give our boys a pep talk about listening and obeying. At pick-up, the teacher would smile and say, “They were great. Boys will be boys.”
Yes, yes they will, I’d reply. Then Lindsay and I would text each other trying piece together details about their day, what they did, and if either of them had to go to time-out.
We’re so thankful for their school and teachers and how they care for, love, and exhibit gentleness and patience with our wild boys.
This photo is a bit blurry, but I love Mary Virginia in the background. Next year she’ll go to school, too.
David had grown and changed so much this year. For one, suddenly he loves to draw, paint, and use scissors. In the past, craft time always started with me being overly encouraging and excited, and ended with me being overly frustrated and David asking to watch TV.
Now, he loves to draw so much that we set up an art table in the guest room. David wanders by several times a day and draws a picture of train tracks or fills a piece of construction paper with backward drawings of the number three.
His teachers agree, in so many ways he’s grown and matured so much in the past year. My little three-almost-four-year old is such a big boy.
Remarkably and accidentally, David has worn the same pair of 2T Old Navy shorts on the first and last days of school every year. Perhaps I’ll be organized enough to continue the tradition next year. Or, maybe I’ll be disorganized enough that it’ll happen accidentally again.