The First Day of Preschool Saga: Part One-The Drop Off

Davy is 3 tiny years old. Which is reason enough for some to think/judge/wonder why oh why would you send that tiny baby away to a school? It's ok if you said it, you weren't the first.

Tis true. I'm a little bit of a bad mom.

But seriously. I thought, prayed, researched, and came to the conclusion that there was only one preschool that would be amazing for her in the whole world. And it was right by our house.

For safety purposes, I'm not going to divulge the school's name here. So the night before her big day, I laid out her clothes... on a chair in the kitchen because that is where everyone should get dressed in the morning. Then I set the kitchen table with bowls and place mats. It was super fancy for our house.

She was excited. I put her hair in piggy-tails, took a few pictures and then we were off. I was getting a little emotional on the way over. And not just because I was thinking about all the time I was going to have to clean up our breakfast mess with just one toddler in tow. I was also almost crying tears of joy at the thought of grocery shopping with one child. Kidding mostly.

We arrived at her school, parked in the mini parking lot and I took both girls out of their carseats and we slowly made our way to the front door of the school where the principal waits to personally say "Good Morning" to every student by name and shake their tiny hands. Precious. Davy was a champ. She gave him the dead fish and looked down as he tried to shake her limp hand. Don't worry I wasn't embarrassed.

Then we made our way down the ca-razy steep stair case. I can barely walk down it safely. And when you add two gumby children to that problem, it's a hazard to all in our path. And we are slow.

People were waiting. When we got downstairs we found Davy's hook, she hung up her adorable backpack. (I dodged an almost unavoidable princess backpack preoccupation and brainwashed my child with all things this.) Judge away. And complete with initials in turquoise. It's legit. I'm prettttty sure she doesn't care though and would have been fine with a Trader Joe's brown bag.

Anyyyway. When she saw her classroom, she walked right in and I had to stop her little body to even get a little hug goodbye. I'm sure she was just hiding all her emotion to help keep me strong. I was hoping the teachers would run over and console me with a hug and tell me that they were going to take very very good care of my precious baby. They didn't. So I left.

I trekked back up the mountainous staircase and sulked to the car. I was buckling Gianna in, as she repeated Davy's name over and over and over.

I knew this had put me over the edge. Gianna was already missing her. I prepared to lose it when I drove out of that parking lot.

I barely started the car and Gianna would not stop saying Davy's name. "DA-TY! DA-TY!" It was torture.

I turned to calm her down and noticed why she was such a wreck.

She was sitting in Davy's giant red carseat.

I looked around, got out of the car and hoped that no one noticed me moving my child from one carseat to another one because obviously I am insane.

And sorry so long for something so lame.