Preschool

Roan,

Last Wednesday was your first day of preschool. I'm sorry about the photos, which are all from last year, but I waited until the last minute and then the photo machines at CVS and Rite Aid were both out of order. I'm sorry about your lunch box, which is an old black insulated bag that came free with my breast pump that I tried to spruce up by writing your name on it. I'm sorry you don't have a Mitzva note, in all honesty, I really don't understand what that is. And I'm sorry if I screwed up the Tzedaka; I think I may have provided you with more pennies than you can lift.

Preschool doesn't seem to be as stressful for you.

That first morning we rode Frankenbike all the way down Prospect Ave. and when we got to the preschool you pointed and smiled and said, "school." We locked up the bike and saw Morah Ahuva and you walked right up and gave her a big smile. We were early, and you stuck your hands and face to the glass and waited for the doors to open. When they did you went inside and forgot all about me. I told you I was going to work and you said, "okay." Just to clarify the situation I told you that you were staying at school and you said, "yes" in a patient way, as if I were a slow child. You were too busy to even look at me.

Here is what we know about your first day: you only got upset once, and were easily calmed with some bread. You ate all your snack, most of your lunch, and didn't nap. You played well with the other kids and shared toys. Your teachers said you were a good counter; you knew all the numbers when they counted to five, and said them all ahead of time.

As for me, I rode Frankenbike back up Prospect and parked it downstairs. I took my work bag and walked to the R train, stood on the platform and cried. Everything is happening too fast. The other toddlers had never been to daycare and clung to their parents, and while I was proud of your independence it reminded me that there will come a time when you won't need me at all. There was something in the tone of that "yes" that said, "go on, Mom. I've got this." I kept replaying that "yes" over and over, until it seemed like the sound of you reassuring me was echoing off the station walls.

***

Today was your second day of preschool. I figured out the Mitzvot notes, got all the photos printed and finally bought the right smock, though you're stuck with the cheerless breast pump lunch bag for another week at least. Daddy picked you up and your teachers told him how smart you are. They even asked if there was an intellectual in the family. An intellectual! They talked about how focused you are, how good you are at puzzles, how much you like to fix things. This is such a difference from the Russian daycare, where we eventually stopped asking for information, as all they ever said was, "Roan strong," and positioned their arms in the universal sign for big muscles.

Daddy and I are still adjusting to the new routine. The sheer number of Jewish holidays is stunning. Sukkot starts on Wednesday, so today is your only day of preschool this week. You made some art for the holiday, which is currently hanging from a shelf. But who knows, maybe we will build our own sukkah in the backyard. Now that you go to preschool, maybe you can teach me how.

Roan on his first day of preschool