Yes, I know it’s not school-school. It’s play school. And it’s only a half-day three days a week. But when you’re used to being with your baby all day every day [for the most part], it’s still an adjustment. Lee asked me last night what I was most afraid of about sending her. I hadn’t thought about that specifically–about being afraid. But I immediately answered two things: That she’ll talk and her teachers won’t understand her. And that they won’t realize what a special baby she is.
And then I was glad that I had already taken out my contacts because I’ve already over-cried these contacts, and I have to throw them away if they get too salty.
I have been thinking a lot in the last week about my days as a teacher. Of course, I didn’t have a child then. I can say that I loved many of my students. But did I celebrate them enough? Did I notice their special qualities? Even the annoying ones who slept in class and cheated on tests and overall tried my patience? Because once upon a time each of those kids was also somebody’s baby going to play school. And that mama was probably crying, too.
Maybe their mamas even had accidents in the children’s section at Chamblin like…someone else I know.
It was a bit of literary retail therapy. Couldn’t be helped. What was it Erasmus said? If I have a little money, I buy books. If any is left, I buy food and clothes?
We might be naked and hungry this month. Whoooooops.
But I sure do feel better. And I only cruised by the school playground once.