As she’s been living under Sam’s shadow for two years, experiencing preschool vicariously through him for the past 12 months, and been gratuitously borrowing all his friends we decided it was time to devote a couple of mornings a week to giving Bea some personal space of her own. It seems strange to be sending her to preschool, she’s not even two yet (At least, not until Sunday!) but she certainly seems to be ready. Sam started preschool in Atlanta at age two and a half. He started just before Baby Bea was born because we thought it would be good for him to carve out some time for himself then too.
Last week one of Bea’s two teachers came to the house to do a home visit and get to know our little treasure.
Oh that was special.
Sam came home from school that afternoon in a rotten and foul mood. When we picked him up at the school Bea excitedly yelled out “DAAAM!” and kicked her legs in anticipation of her rejoining her brother’s company. Sam got into his car seat, buckled up and then promptly hit her. Screams and wails resounded around the car and set the tone for the rest of the afternoon.
Bea’s teacher arrived at the door just as I’d given up on refereeing the children and decided that Sam simply had to go chill in his room and either get some rest (unlikely) or try to calm down. His temper could be heard bellowing out from behind his bedroom door as Miss Amy set foot in the house. Toys crashed around as he took out his frustrations.
Bea was having a late lunch thanks to her disruptive brother but was soon ignoring her food and happily galloping and trotting around the house merrily showing off her pony club skills to the visitor. Thankfully the sound of a stranger in the house quelled Sam’s noisemaking down to a low drone. Finally curiosity overcame and he composed himself long enough to make a brief and relatively sedate appearance. Meanwhile Bea was quite charming and the perfect hostess to her guest. I paced around while Miss Amy got to know Bea and kept everything crossed that the lull would continue at least until the teacher left. It just about did, but normal service resumed once more as soon as her car pulled out of the driveway.
Bea’s first official day of preschool was Tuesday. She was so excited that morning and seemed to know exactly what was happening. When Sam got ready for school she defiantly attempted to be a big girl and dress herself too. When Sam got his lunch and bag together Bea proudly insisted on putting her backpack on too. With half an hour to go before we had to leave she was parading through the house impatiently, as ready as can be. If she could have been strapped into her car seat wearing her back pack she would have insisted on it.
Once we had dropped Sam off at his school we hurried to Open Door. I got my first day of school photo in and then walked her to the classroom. Her other teacher, none other than Sam’s teacher from last year, was waiting for her and greeted her with a big smile. Bea’s confidence seemed to falter a little as I entered the classroom with her and headed to put her bag in her waiting cubby. She wrapped herself around my leg and buried her head into me. Matilda’s familiar head then popped up from behind a set of shelves and Bea perked up. She spied some puzzles laid out on a table and teetered off towards them without looking back. “Bye bye little Bea! I love you, see you in a little while!” I sloped out the classroom leaving her happy with her new classmates.
When I returned she had drawn three lovely red crayon pictures for me, and had apparently cooked up a huge and tasty banquet for the teachers. She was still smiling and didn’t want to leave.