The pressure that has hit “even me” is astounding.
My child is happy, and healthy. I am grateful EVERY SECOND of EVERY DAY and ALL NIGHT, my kid is healthy. I will not complain about colds and sniffles, while some other parents out there face actual chronic medical issues. (We have been sick more times in the past two years, than in the whole of my life put together!...I am told this is normal.)
And so despite our GREAT good fortune, we are faced with pressure.
“Have you applied to preschools”?
This question would imply that I have scheduled more than one tour, gone in and seen some places, and then chosen a few of the top ones, and paid the application fee, and filled out an application, and now, I am waiting to hear.
None of the above.
I have not scheduled.
I have not toured.
I have not filled out (or paid the fees).
I am waiting. I could be waiting for a long time.
I am waiting until I feel like the little pet is ready to go.
I want her to have more words. Less shrieks. More independence. Possibly an idea of what the toilet is for (besides flushing)
If I want to wait until I am ready to send her, …until I am ready to say good-bye to my baby – then I can tell you right now, I will be 97 before the child leaves the house. She will have to learn which key opens the gate, find the keys, let herself out, and run away.
And, HA, that could be next week. For all I know,she is reading this post right now, and thinking “oh, is that all it takes? A key? I can follow those simple instructions!”
Peering out at the gate.
Okay, I'll look into preschools.
I won't be happy about it. But I'll look into it. Maybe next year?
For now, let's go jump in some puddles. "Can you say "puddles"?" Good Girl.