My beautiful boy is all grown up and is moving out.
"Well, not quite" Matt reassures me as I sob and wail into the living room couch while clutching the Kid's baby blanket. The Kid has started attending three year-old kinder for one 2.5 hr session each week. It isn't that I don't want to be separated from him or that I don't want him to go to kinder, but more of a sad feeling that something is ending.
Week one was a bit hard. I stayed in the room for the first few minutes, but when I went to leave he wanted to come with me and then the tears came. I asked one of the teachers to help, "I'm going to leave now and he's a bit of a screamer and a thrasher," I said, but was thinking "and a biter and kicker." but I thought they might tell me to take him with me so I kept quiet. They called me 20 mins later to let me know all was OK. We are now up to week four of kinder and things are going well. The teachers Kathy and Mary were both a hit, actually he seems to like one more than the other as he told me that he loves Mary - this was after Mary pretended to be a robot and then showed him a new way to give hi-5's (she held her hand up really high). On the way to the car after this week's class we had to turn around and go back because he forgot to give Mary a hi-5. Cute. But she had better watch out, super-nice-robot-impersonating-hi5-giving-son-stealing-kinder-teacher...
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