Last Thursday, Henry started preschool. He was excited. His blue shirt had a red three and racing horses on it. He thought that was cool. His car themed back pack? Also cool.Why I have labeled this child as being "quiet and introverted" is beyond me. Each day, he proves me wrong. Confidently he waved "Goodbye!" Once his back pack was hung, he went straight to "work."
Picking him up from school today went something like this:
With happy anticipation, I watch the door of his preschool from my car. My eyes flit to clock as I confirm that the kids should make their appearance soon. A short moment later, I see his sweet face appear as Mrs. Phillips ushers the little children, whose large backpacks threaten to swallow each of them, out the door. With Lottie snoozing in back, I'm mindful to lock the door as I join the group of Moms across the street. There is a row of bright colored chairs that dot the front lawn. It is here that the preschoolers are directed to wait to be picked up.
I'm somewhat in a hurry as I make my approach. One street away, Eliza is making her way to the pick up zone at her school. As I make eye contact with those big blue eyes, I crouch down and open my arms. I wait expectantly for him to run into them, the mental anthem celebrating our reunion plays on... until I realize, sadly, that he wants nothing to do with me.
"Hi Henry." I practically sing. He looks away. "It's me, Mom." Trying to comfort my ego I think that perhaps, the sun is to bright. I reach down to grab his hand.
"Hey sweetie, it's time to go! How was preschool?"
"I don't want to go home, Mom. I like preschool." The sad and happy feelings combat one another as the image of Eliza waiting to be picked up fills my thoughts. I give him a moment to realize that all the children are leaving too. Finally, he reaches for my hand. As we make our way to the car, he explodes into the details of his morning and that feeling of happy contentment purrs its way back into place.