And would you believe we all survived?
Joshua has rarely been happy in the church nursery. For about six months after Clare was born he did OK, but once she started having some separation anxiety, he decided that the nursery was no place for either of them. We haven't even been to church in about three months except for the few occasions that I've had leadership roles in the worship service, and even then Jay stays home with the kids.
I was understandably nervous about the preschool thing. I wrote Joshua a book and we talked about school for weeks. We even went over to school last Thursday so that he could play in his classroom for a few minutes and practice using the potty. He assured me over the weekend that he wouldn't cry when Vati dropped him off and that he would have fun.
And wouldn't know it? He did! I sat nervously on the bed waiting for Jay to get home from dropping him off and braced myself for the bad news. Jay reported that there were no tears at all, just a simple hand off and goodbye. Huh? Seriously? We waited for the next hour for the phone call and then realized that it wasn't going to come. Huh. Seriously.
I picked him up at 11:30, before the regular dismissal, and found him on the "toyground." He was happy to see me, but equally happy to continue playing. I found his teacher, whose first words were, "He's adorable!" and got the rest of the scoop from her. No tears. Got along great with everyone else. "He's so good!" she said.
I finally convinced him to go with me and he sweetly told Miss Libby goodbye. Then as we walked off of the playground he informed me that he wanted to go back to school. Immediately. I think he can probably wait until Thursday, but I'm not sure he'll be happy about it.
I didn't get too much info about the day, although I heard repeatedly from the backseat, "Aaallll through the toooown!" so I'm assuming he sang "The Wheels on the Bus." When I asked him what books the teachers read he said, "Oh, all kinds." so I guess I'm not getting much more info about that. He had Cheerios for snack. Beyond that everything's a mystery: Someone sat in a black chair, but we're not sure who. There's another Joshua in the class. And someone got germs in someone else's mouth.
My inner drama queen is a little disappointed that the whole thing was so anticlimactic, but I really am glad that he had fun. I don't know if I'll ever get used to not knowing what was happening in his world for a whole six hours each week. For three years I've been the keeper of the knowledge about Joshua, and now I share that role with two other people. I trust them implicitly, of course, but it's strange that there are entire chunks of time that I can no longer account for.
When Joshua doesn't know the answer to a question or isn't confident that he has the right information, he says, "Can you say it?" When we asked him questions about his day yesterday, there were a few times when he said, "Can you say it?" "Buddy, we have no idea!" we answered. That's weird. But fun. Sort of.