Well, the first morning at Annabelle’s preschool went incredibly well. She ate a good breakfast of angel hair pasta nests, her favorite meal, and got dressed and out the door on time, wearing her little pink dress that has the word “Annabelle” monogrammed across the chest.
On the way there, I told her the teachers would be speaking to her in a different language. She told me how she loves different languages.
She immediately jumped in playing playdough with the teacher and other children. I felt I was leaving her in a torture chamber because four of the other children were screaming for their mothers and fathers. I said “Annabelle, can you help this little girl make something for her mom? She misses her.” Annabelle said, “Sure. I can do a dance for you. It’s a happy dance. It will make you feel better.” She waved at me as I left the room.
I thought I’d break down weeping when I left because I was so upset about being apart from her, even for three hours. I’d almost decided to home school her last night. But I feel good about it.
And now Henry is napping and I don’t know what to do with my free time! Should I shower? Dance? Bake cookies? Talk on the phone? But I’m sure it’s apparent what I’ve decided to do at this exact moment. I’m writing.
