This is what A. says now every morning, regardless of the day of the week and whether or not we’re actually going to preschool that day.
{Mister Finn being tickled by his friend Mac}
Things are better; they’re even SUPER. I can’t say how relieved I am to write that. Preschool has been great. There has been snack eating (mostly cheddar bunnies). There has been cleaning up of toys (without crying). A. sings the loudest at music time; actually, I think he’s the only kid singing. There’s a girl in the class who is a real bruiser, but A. recovers pretty quickly when she attacks him. (More quickly than I, as my full mama bear insides have been invoked. Seriously, I feel like even though I manage to remain calm, I feel like I’ve grown to 10 feet, with coarse fur and giant teeth growling.)
Mister Finn talks frequently about Teacher Linda (pronounced Teeecher Leeenda) with adoring lilts in his sing-song voice. He loves to name off all the kids in his class, and he sings the songs from preschool all the time at home.
This preschool adventure has felt like his big preemie final exam. It felt like the measuring stick by which we’d all know if he’s Really OK. I was very anxious about if he would pass. He is a unique person with his own challenges, including a mild version of Sensory Processing Disorder. But now I can see that there isn’t a child in that class that doesn’t have their own issues or uniqueness. I look around the room and think that I’d choose my boy, with his challenges and uniqueness, in a heartbeat.
