I can't decide if this is more so true for the mommy or for the child.
Here is my sweet little Belle on her first day of preschool. This week marks the beginning of yet another stage in our lives. We decided to enroll Isla in a four week summer session at the University's early childcare centre, The Children's House, to ensure a spot for fall entry, but also to test it out and see how she'd fare being away from her mother and brother a couple mornings a week.
Well, if her consistent displeasure of sighting me (to pick her up) is any indication, it's safe to say that she likes going to school. From what I've been able to coax out of her, she's already met some new little friends, been on a field trip to see the Entymology lab at the University, likes the outdoor play equipment best with snack time a close runner up and if it were up to her she'd go to school everyday of the week, not just Tuesdays and Thursdays.
I, on the other hand, seem to be more affected by this new change in our daily existence. Besides getting all vaclempt when I dropped her off the first morning, today I found myself wandering around the house all morning wondering what to do with my time (while Roscoe napped.) I'm also more aware of watching the time, have dug out our alarm clock and am doing my best to work on my promptness at dropping her off and picking her up at the right time.
And despite her best efforts to share the details of her mornings at school, she is wiped by the time we get home. Today in particular, we scheduled a lunch date immediately following her morning at school, which was fine, that is until I got her home and she crashed out on our bed in utter exhaustion.
So while it's hard work and tiring for Isla, at least I can be assured that she loves it. As for me, I suppose this is only the beginning of encouraging independence and reluctantly letting them go.