The other day a friend of ours asked K-Pants if he knew how to spell his name. The Pants said Yes! Followed by: “K-Pants, 3, Preschool.”
The Pants’s ability to put letters together is still spotty.
So in the absence of being able to spell, he just gave his full dossier: “K-Pants, 3, Preschool.” That’s what it would say if you looked him up on KiddieMatch.com or saw his FBI wanted poster.
K-Pants. Three-years-old. About to attend preschool. Dark hair. Twenty-fifth percentile for weight. May be seen pooping in his front yard.
We weren’t sure about this whole preschool thing.
It sounded like paying through the nose to have someone care for your child for about the amount of time it took to drive home, unload the second child, change his diaper, and get back in the car.
And if you weren’t paying through the nose, then you were going to be in the classroom helping every day of the week. Don’t get me wrong, helping at your child’s school is awesome, but I was left wondering what’s in it for me with this preschool thing.
Also, I don’t like doing in-depth research. And I don’t like open houses. So we let the preschool registration circus blow by and decided that other people could have well-adjusted children who were able to work in teams.
But then time continued to pass, and K-Pants kept chugging along the developmental timeline.
It seems that kids his age are ready to play in groups and really interested in having friends. Baby Center probably told me that in one of their emails I deleted.
As a side note, full-time parents like moi are occasionally about to pull their hair out in the afternoon as they burn dinner and wonder why the children are crying again.
Plus I kept hearing great things about this preschool nearby.
So I looked online and saw that there was an open spot for a three-year-old boy in the afternoon class. Fate! Karma! Kismet?
Who knows? Who cares? We filled out a form and sent an email with an isn’t-he-cute photo. I got an email back wondering if I might like to tour the school–apparently most parents do that. Also, did I want to fill out a registration form rather than the emergency contacts form?
Done, and done!
We used to live in New York City, so I was ready to submit my child to a battery of aptitude tests and bring in a vial of blood, but apparently all they needed were a couple of additional forms and a check.
So here we are boarding the train for preschool. I’m hoping it will help K-Pants learn to express himself without throwing things.
