My two punks are walking around the house lately like they are "all that and a bag of marbles".
You see, they start preschool next week.
We went to the Open House on Monday and it was so neat to see the contrasts in their personalities.
HP is in the 3 year old class, and she strutted down the hallway towards her classroom like it was nobodies business.
Both her and Peanut are in the same class and although they had recently seen each other, they clung together like long-lost friends. The girls went from the play dough table to the coloring sheet table and back again in a span of 30 seconds all while not straying more than one foot from each other.
HP had no qualms about meeting her teacher and I said a silent prayer of thanks, that she wasn't the kid clinging to her dad with a death grip, screaming like a screech owl as he tried in vain to get her to interact with the other kids (I know, my time will come, I was just thankful that HP was so well adjusted THIS time).
The Dude had his head on a swivel. He was grinning from ear to ear when he saw his class. The teacher was trying to talk to him, but he had zero interest on listening to what she had to say. There were toys to inspect and cubbies to sit in and windows to look out of...he was in hog heaven.
The thing that excited him the most was the gymnasium (preschool is in a YMCA). I finally got him to interact with his teacher by having her provide the answer as to whether or not The Dude would get to run around the gym (of course the answer was a resounding "yes").
Part of me has a heavy heart as I see my kids going off to do activities without me. After all, I have been with them consistently since they were born.
I know it will be good for them.
I know it will be good for me.
I just can't get the dang lump out of my throat.