Well, the boys are at school, Ciara is napping and the house is strangely quiet. I find myself what they are doingnow, if they are asking about me or, worse, crying and upset.
As a former Kindergarten teacher, I know all about separation anxiety--from the child's perspective. I was the one who was gently leading the child away, calming their fears, telling them Mom would be back after school. Never, until this morning, did I appreciate what the parents must have been going through. Entrusting me, a virtual stranger who they have maybe seen a few minutes, to take care of their child for 6 hours a day. Trusting me to teach them, protect them, comfort them when they were upset. Which of course I did.
But now, here I am in their shoes. Leaving my boys with a teacher I (and they) have met only a couple of times. In the mad rush on this first full day of preschool (all 2.5 hours of it!) I couldn't tell the teacher what to look for that would let her know the boys were upset. I couldn't tell her little secret words we have to make them feel better. I know they are in totally capable hands but it still feels weird to have them not in my care or in the care of their grandparents. This is the first time they have stayed with non-family members.
So, how did they do you ask? Well, Aidan ran into the classroom after he saw the box of cars on the classroom rug. Didn't even say goodbye. I had to stick my head in the door so he would know we were leaving. Gavin hung back a little, sucking his two fingers, a little leery about entering the room. I knelt down and told him we'd be back for him and gave him a hug and a kiss. No tears from either and I am counting the minutes until I go pick them up and see how they did.
One more hour.
I better go enjoy the quiet while it lasts.
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