Dear Max Attack,
I can't figure out what I'm feeling right now. You've been in day care since 2 months after you came home; why does preschool feel so different?
You're going to be amazing, kiddo.
Preschool is big, dude. It's huge. All of a sudden, you'll have a classroom and a teacher, a cubby with your name on it. You've started making friends whose moms I don't already know. You're going to have lessons and craft time and recess and rest time.
You'll learn about Christmas and Kwanzaa and Ramadan, because there will be kids in your class who have very different lives from yours. You'll meet kids who follow cricket instead of baseball, eat noodles more often than burgers. You'll meet children in all shades of skin, and you'll learn their names, and have to remind me who they are when I meet them at Open House.
I can't wait for you to come home everyday, and tell me all about your day. I hope you remember everything, from your teacher's name to what you had for lunch, but I'm not holding my breath. I want you to come home excited.
You love reading SO much. Words and numbers will keep you entertained for hours… preschool is where you will start putting all of those things together, the pieces on which you will build your entire education.
We've come a long way, haven't we? I know we talk all the time, about how tiny and sick you were when you were born… but I don't know if you really grasp it. Sometimes, you look so grown up, it makes me catch my breath and just stare.
The other morning, you came out in jeans and your green DUDE shirt, which I should probably pass on to Dash, because it's really too short in the belly. You just looked so OLD. I said that to you, “Oh Max! You look so old, kiddo!” and you came to me, put your sweet arms around my neck and said, “I'm not old, Mommy. I'm just four!”
You are always asking when you'll be big. It'll happen. I promise. Much faster than I want it to, it will happen.
And this is the first big step.
I love you for always,
Dear Max Attack,