Preschool starts next Thursday. And I’m having a tough time adjusting to this fact.
I mean, yeah, I’m excited for Henry and Eleanor. Their school has tons of parental involvement, and they have a great teacher, and they seem pretty excited themselves, and I can’t wait for them to have new adventures (and for me to have some time to myself). I’m so proud of my big kids, my preschoolers.
But all the mom part of me can think is that it’s the beginning of them leaving me. We’re going to start experiencing life apart from one another, and before I know it they’ll be off to college and having their own independent lives, and they’ll roll their eyes when I tell them they’ll always be my babies, and on second thought, education is overrated, kids, why don’t you stay at home with Mom forever and ever and ever.
And to top it off, every time preschool is mentioned (which is all the time lately) I get this Sesame Street song stuck in my head.
So basically, laments over the fleeting nature of childhood and green Muppet Zac Efrons are battling for space in my brain. It’s been a strange week.