Wee Jamie started day care/pre-pre-K today, so I am rather relishing being untied from his very strict daily routine, while my daughter is, of course, wracked with feelings of vague guilt and concern at turning over her most precious offspring to the care of people who, at this moment, are strangers. Because she, as a real estate agent, is not tied to regular office hours. We could, theoretically, carry on as we have been, lo these last three years and three months – that is, I looked after Wee Jamie when my daughter has a class, or a showing, or simply must go to the brokerage. The main problem with that was that his chances to associate with other children regularly – on a daily basis – were almost nil. Everyone – me, my daughter, Wee Jamie’s various therapists (for his developmental delay issues) and his godparents all agreed; he needed regular company with his peer group; for the example they would provide when it came to eating anything but crunchies, potty-training and … well, just general socialization. Being cared for full-time at home when he was a baby was perfectly fine; I rather imagine that the pediatrician approved, as it would have reduced the number of germs and viruses that he might inadvertently be exposed to. But an active, lively toddler, full of curiosity and with a full fuel tank of go-go-go? He was ready for the wider world, although if the wider world is ready for Wee Jamie … the jury is still out on that one.

So, off he went this morning, for his first day at Montessori pre-pre-K, with his little rolling-bag full of several changes of clothes, a full package of pull-ups, a little all-in-one sleeping mat/blanket/pillow, a packed lunch full of his favorite crunchies and a sippy-cup full of apple juice – everything marked with his name, of course. He ran happily into the classroom, rounded up some things to play with and never looked back. We tiptoed away while he was distracted.

He’s a social little boy – I think he will enjoy it all. My daughter usually did, when she was his age. I’d carry her into the base day-care center, and set her down so that I could sign her in – and she would tear off for her classroom as soon as her feet hit the floor. She would still be having so much fun when I came in to collect her after the day of work, that she was usually pretty casual about tearing herself away from whatever she was playing at.

Oh, Hi, Mom – is it four o’clock already?

Me, at about the time of this incident – taken when I was doing the school-kid tours for the Public Affairs office, Mather AFB

There was one little girl in her classroom, though – who almost invariably came running up to me, holding up her arms and demanding to be picked up. A little girl with red-blond hair, who would cry when I set her down, collected my own child and made to leave. This happened almost every day, and I couldn’t imagine why the little red-headed girl would glom on to me, and then be absolutely heartbroken when I left. And then one afternoon at the end of the working day,  Little Red-head girl’s  mother and I arrived at almost the same time. Red-head’s mom was about my age, height, coloring, and the same short hair, and wearing the same Class-B uniform combination … otherwise, we didn’t really look all that much alike – but, gosh, it was good enough for Little Red-Head.

Jamie had a wonderful day today – he was having fun when my daughter went to get him, and he even managed take a little bit of a nap on his new sleeping-mat, when all the other kids napped as well.