Friends, I am officially a Nursery School graduate. Well my son is, really. (He specialized in blocks and the alphabet. We’re very proud). Onto kindergarten in the fall. Which means that my nursery school days are done. I am, in effect, a Nursery School graduate. How would I even begin to explain the simultaneous well of grief and the sweet relief of having made it through?
I never think I’m going to get sentimental because generally, I’m pretty practical. Wouldn’t you know it, at the end-of-the-year “Sing-along”, I lost it good. My throat had begun its tightening well before I saw him filing in with his class, teachers arranging them on stage. Once the singing started, I couldn’t see him through the swarm of children.
Have you heard thirty-something very small children sing? *sigh*
Skinamarinky Dinky Dink was a highlight, but that song about Love being the only thing that when you give it away, you have more? Arrow through the heart.
I told him after, that I could hear him singing, because Moms have special ears that can hear their children, even in a crowd. He nodded his head, as if saying, Yes. That sounds feasible. Of course you could hear my beautiful singing. In his dreamy world, where not everything has a name yet, anything is possible.
My husband was trying to chat with me about something or other while we were waiting for them to come in. Because we’re old pros at this. We’re not the parents that got there early to get a seat up front with our camcorder. We’re all chill on our third turn on the carousel. I thought.
I turned to him, tears on my face, and said, I’m not available to talk about that right now. I’m kind of having a moment. And I don’t want to miss it.