It’s finally hitting me–tomorrow is Tice’s first morning of day school. I’m so excited for him to make friends and experience new things, but I also want to hover and make sure the other kids are nice and that he doesn’t experience more than he needs to.
I guess it doesn’t matter if they’re eight weeks or five years old, dropping them off and trusting someone else with their well-being is the hardest thing a parent can do.
At the open house on Friday night, Tice had a ball. He immediately started playing with the other kids and the new toys. Another cute little boy came up to greet him, and then he hit Tice. The over-protective mommy in me wanted to push the kid away, but, luckily, I acted like a grown-up and waited for Tice’s reaction. Tice looked at us and smiled. He picked up the toy that the other child shoved in his direction, and he didn’t even know that a transgression had occurred. I was relieved and proud, but (don’t judge me) I kind-of wanted him to push the other kid back. I was torn between wanting him to “turn the other cheek” and stand up for himself. I guess he’s going to have to do a lot of both of those things from now on. As it turned out, his reaction to getting hit was perfect, because it ended with that hit; then they smiled at each other and played. (“Ignorance is bliss.”) I just pray that I can be wise and let him figure as much of it out as possible without stepping in and making things worse. Damn. That’s going to be a fine line, isn’t it?
On the bright side:
-He’s enrolled in the best school I could hope for. I’ve yet to meet a parent that has bad things to say about his school. (If you’re a parent with something negative to say about his school–now is not the time!)
-He’ll only be there three mornings a week, so I still have plenty of time to continue corrupting him with my own ideas.
-I have unrealistic expectations about how much work I’ll get done while he’s at school, so I’m sure by this time next week, I’ll be wondering why I didn’t enroll him full-time.
-Maybe not on that last one.
Please love my boy.
He’s not perfect, but he’s pretty awesome.