The journey...that thing called preschool

Every parent has dreamy visions of their child going off on their first day of school... a bright shiny face, cute hair cut, new, clean clothes, and of course, a full display of the very "best behavior." Our first day of preschool didn't quite follow that script. For starters, students had to be completely potty trained in order to attend. At 4 years and 3 months, our son was still having occasional accidents. He had been a late bloomer...we tried potty training at 2 1/2, but it was obviously NOT going to happen. He simply didn't care and had no desire to learn how. After weeks of frustration, we decided it wasn't worth the stress on all of us. This process repeated itself at 3, but had the same results...no interest whatsoever. At 3 1/2, I knew preschool was coming and I knew he couldn't go without the "deed" being done. We plowed ahead and had achieved a status of 95% of the time accident-free. Well, that would have to do, school was starting and the preschool waiting lists were unbelievably long. There would be no way to pull him out and then get him in again before Kindergarten.

The day before preschool began, our son was going through his typical day...2 settings: "constant motion" or "zombie in front of the TV". In either case, there was little chance of getting his attention unless you had his eyes focused on you. There came a moment, like a scene in a movie, where time stands still and you move in slow motion to thwart a catastrophe. He was racing through our house at full speed, not paying attention (as usual), and tripped headlong into the window sill (2 inches higher and his head would have gone through the window; 1/2 inch lower and the sill would have gone right into his eye.) God has protected this child countless times throughout his life and this was clearly one of those times. He got up screaming in his usual over-the-top fashion, we put some ice on the red mark just below his eye, and I think he may have sat on my lap for a total of 15 minutes before resuming his "fast forward" activities. Breathe a sigh of relief, he's no worse for the wear. Until the next morning...check out the HUGE black eye! I got more than a few knowing looks and raised eyebrows as I walked him into school that first day.

I walked out of the school in tears. Part of it was the normal feelings of a mom saying goodbye to the early childhood of her first child, but part of it was fear. The fear of how the day would go and how my son would respond to the people and situations that would confront him. The fear that this quite possibly could be the step that confirmed some of my suspicions. The suspicions that I might not be a good parent/mother, that my son might not be able to handle school yet, and a teeny tiny nagging thought that there might be a lot of things that my son may struggle with in the future.