He insisted on having "spikey hair" for the first day. And he calls hair gel "jello" so how can I resist when he asks?
No first day jitters here! He got right to work on their first project.
I quietly left the room, waiting ever so briefly for him to come running after me. He didn't. Then I giggled all the way home, turned the tv on, and grabbed a Nutty Bar (or two), ready to catch up on some shows that didn't star a bi-lingual girl with a monkey or a clue-hiding dog. I was well into my second episode of Doctor Who , drooling over David Tennant, when the phone rang. It was the Boy's teacher. Uh oh. The Boy had an accident. Great. So I hurried out the door with a change of clothes (and shoes).
When I arrived, the Boy was with his teacher and the preschool director...in the men's restroom. Hrmmm...haven't been in one of those intentionally since I was in grade school. Apparently, all this restroom had was a handicap stall and a urinal. Not quite comfortable with the urinal, the Boy headed to the stall only to hesitate because the potty was so high. He didn't make it. And now the director was cleaning up the "spill" while I stripped the Boy down. For the next twenty minutes, I was constantly looking at the door, hoping that no grown men would need to make a pit stop. How awkward that would be!
While getting him into clean underwear, I looked into his teary eyes and he softly whispered "Can I go home with you?" Oh, the torment! How I wanted to carry him home and snuggle up together with more Nutty Bars...but he really needed to stay with his class. He let a couple of tears fall and I almost wavered. Luckily, the director said that it was snack time in his class and surely he wouldn't want to miss that. He was still quiet but let me guide him back to his class. Again, I left him there, perhaps a trifle more emotional than the first time - for both of us.