Preschool Blues

Maybe I’m nuts, but I miss the kids while they are at school. (Don’t get me wrong, half the time I’d like to send them back as soon as they come home.) It just seems kind of sucky that you suffer through the baby and toddler years, and then as soon as the kids get big enough to understand the rules and play a game or enjoy an outing that does not involve McDonald’s, you are expected (or should I say actually legally required )to send them to school.

I feel especially sad about sending Me Too to preschool. This year, it’s twice a week and that’s great. At times she is clingy like Saran Wrap to a microwave dish and it is nice to have some time apart. But come April she will be in preschool five days a week from 9-2. Does she really need that?

Preschool here is so inflexible. They have to go the full day; they have to go every day; they must start in April. The school she attends now is the only one that had any option besides all day every day for three year olds.

My son did the same thing, twice a week the first year and, since there was no alternative, every day for two more years. The first year was the best. He had time to play with his baby sister; he spent lots of time just playing and being a toddler. We had fun.

Me Too’s days are more restrained because she has to work around her brother’s schedule, but we are having a lot of fun. We went for a walk in the rain this morning. Me Too stomped in puddles and talked about all the things she wants to do this winter. “Let’s make a snowman shaped like Minnie Mouse,” she says. “We’ll give her high heeled shoes and a ribbon.”

“What color ribbon?” I ask.
“Snow only comes in white,” she replies, but the look on her face adds dumbass.

We went to the coffee shop, where she ordered warm milk and I had a latte. They have picture books and we spent about thirty minutes warming up after our walk and reading about the adventures of “Mr. Bread Crust.” These mostly revolve around being envious of Mr. Bread White. Gotta love Japanese children’s books.

After some time perusing the puzzle aisle in the toy section and, ultimately, choosing to buy a hand towel (?) instead, Me Too decided she wanted to call Jiji and Baba (grandma and grandpa) and invite them to lunch.

How great is it to be a four-year-old girl, when you can just call your grandparents and be like, “Hey yo, take me out to lunch!” and the grown-ups are happy about it.

Enjoy it while you can, sugar. Next year it’s obento every day.

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