My almost 3 year old was so excited about going to “school” in the morning.
He packed his school bag, put on his Spiderman underwear, his special dragon tshirt, his shorts and sandals all by himself. He chatted away about his teachers, his new friends, the cool lego cars and the rubber crocodile in the playground.
But the moment we stepped inside the pre-kindy, he burst into tears again.
It wasn’t an explosive-tantrum crying. It was more a sad-puppy-dog crying. He clung onto my leg. He tried a bit of “OH NO I FORGOT MY HAT!! Sob sob sob. Oh, it’s on my head. Sob sob. Oh woe.”
When I came back to pick him up, he was bouncing with glee. Happy to see me and Sean again. As he scooted around gathering up his things, I asked his teacher, “So how’d he go?”
She said, “Fantastic! He did really well!” Then she paused.
The expression on her face indicated that she had something very serious, very astonishing and incredibly, life-threateningly important to discuss — she said, “Callum is… really smart.” And the way she said SMART, made it sound like no other child in the world had EVER been smart before.
So at that moment I felt like someone poured honey on my heart. Warm, glowing and beaming. I was sooOOOOOoooOOOOoo proud.
I wanted to blurt out, I KNOW!!! AREN’T I THE LUCKIEST MOTHER ON EARTH? But instead I swallowed back the lump of happiness in my throat and mumbled something pleasant and thankful in return.
I decided to keep the bragging for my husband. Oh, and my website. Ha!