The First Day

It's the first day of Pre-K, and I just left the school. As a testament to my terrible driving skills and fear of collateral damage, I drove through the parking lot twice and found nowhere to stop that wouldn't result in destroying a vehicle or someone's body. Instead, I decided to park alongside the road (not sure if that's legal--please don't arrest me) and we walked from the corner, through the parking lot, and into the building. On the way, I asked a few questions, trying to feel out The Girl's ratio of excitement to fear. Here is a very slightly edited transcript:

"Are you excited?"

"Mm-hmmm."

"Yeah? Well, do you like your teacher?"

"Yes."

"Do you like your classmates?"

"The kids?"

"Yes, the kids. Do you like them?"

"Mm-hmm."

"That's good. I think you'll have a good da--Don't step in that! Someone should take their dog somewhere else to walk."

"That's yucky!"

"Good lookin' out, kid. So what are you going to do today?"

"I'm going to do my job. . . and share with all my people."

"Wow, really? When we get home we'll outline your campaign plan."

"I can color inside the lines, Mommy."

She really can, too.

I settled her into class and watched for a minute, hidden behind the door jamb and a group of other poorly hidden mommies and daddies. She sat quietly and smiled at the boy who sat beside her (who told me rather proudly that he had a green shirt on, twice), and as other parents with other big girls and boys pushed through, I stepped away and walked down the hall, out the door, then the eleventy blocks to my car, smiling all the way. She'll be fine there, with her people.