Which means: Tucker is a preschooler. And as you can see, he was very pleased to claim the title.
My little buddy and I walked, hand in hand, into his new classroom.
He was so excited and so ready to do this thing... I had to remind him to say goodbye to me.
(But, let the record show: I would rather be on that end of the spectrum than be the mom who cannot leave because her child is melting down... I've watched that scene, and it's brutal for everyone. Tuck spared us all. He was ready to roll. See ya, Mommy.)
I planned for this day, I packed his backpack, I prepped and prepared in all the ways I know how. But I was still not ready for the sentiment of handing him over to his teacher. The reality of getting into the car, leaving him in good hands, and knowing this is the beginning of a new chapter. (And I really am that mom who cried in the car. I wasn't going to be. And look at that... I am that girl.)
Miss Jill is his new therapist, and she is well on her way to learning his language, or better yet, teaching him ours. I had to resist the urge to speak for him as he got settled in... this is his environment, his classroom, his new teacher, his new world that is not mine. And she knows just what to do to help him communicate with her and his new friends.
But, until now, that was my job. There's a big piece of my heart in that classroom now, two mornings a week.
My little guy. A preschooler. You do it, Tuck. And be sure to tell me all about it. I can't wait to hear it all, in every sense of the word.