My son started preschool yesterday. In the same building that my daughter did, in the same classroom, and with the same teacher...
I wrote so many posts on my blog and Instagram about our past journey, because the transition for her was difficult. But, I continued with my peaceful parenting ways and never lost sight of my child's needs the entire time. And, I'm grateful for this preschool and the staff because, they allow me to parent my way... And I firmly believe, the gentle process helped form my daughter's love for school. And, even though she sometimes still cries when she leaves me, she immensely enjoys her day after the initial separation. Whereas, if she was peeled from me and left to cry to some stranger, she still wouldn't be so quick to leave all these years later...
But yesterday I learned something...
I learned, that my son isn't my daughter. And yesterday was such an easy transition, so easy in fact, that I was waiting for the other foot to drop. I sat in that empty parking lot, waiting for my phone to ring. Waiting to hear they needed me to comfort my crying son... And weirdly, I felt more unprepared for him doing great versus him having trouble.
I called the school during the half-way mark, while I was still in the parking lot, because my anxiety was getting the better of me. The staff said, he was doing amazing, and was maybe even more social than my daughter... I was speechless...
But even after that phone call, and as the time slowly crept past, I kept thinking, he has to be crying by now, right?
Well, when the 2.5 hrs were up, I was the first through those doors. By this time, my brain was playing out multiple negative scenarios...
I felt like I was locked away from my child long enough and I was dying to see his face. Was he sad? Nervous? Confused?
The classroom door opened and we locked eyes.
And, he smiled the biggest smile and was so excited to see me. But even better, he said, he had so much fun and couldn't wait to go back!
I hugged him extra long and sung my praises...
What I also wasn't prepared for, was the conversation that unfolded in my backseat when we picked up my daughter... She was just as excited to hear about his day, as he was in telling her.
She acted like a mother, softly hugging him, and telling him how proud she was for him.
They talked the whole way home about what they each learned and what they were going to learn. She talked about the fun things they would be doing in his school throughout the year and he can't wait.
It was like they were in their own secret club...
As the second day is preparing to play out, I still continue to be a little cautious with this whole situation. But, this school year has already thrown me off, by my daughter easily walking through her own set of doors without a single tear yet.
It seemed both children miraculously aged within a week and it's a little difficult for my brain to keep up...
I'm just hoping my son continues to love school, even after he finally figures out that he has to go continuously until May... And I'm hoping my daughter doesn't breakdown after the teachers go on strike again in just two short weeks...
But time will tell and I can't do anything to control those possible situations. All I can do is, reassure my children that they're doing great and how proud I am of them. And how brave they are to be actively involved in uncomfortable situations and are rocking it, like a boss...
... And thankfully, I have nothing but time to help them :)
**If you want to read those posts about my daughter's preschool journey. Go to my blog's main page, on web version, and search the blog archive in the right side column. They will be under September 2014 until May 2015.**
*Here is one of the posts about my daughter...
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