The first of many changes is coming. Alex is moving from the 3-year old class to the 4-year old class next week. He has spent the last two weeks spending parts of each day visiting the older class in preparation, and a week from tomorrow he will be starting his new life in the class of 4-year olds.
In a class of four year olds.
There is so much wrong with that statement.
How can my baby, my little man, almost be four? Wasn’t he just born? Didn’t he just drink from a bottle, like, last week? Wasn’t he saying his first words, like, two days ago? How is already ready to be in preschool?
Legitimate preschool. Not this nonsense that we, as a culture, call “preschool.” The actual year before he starts kindergarten. You know, preschool.
Wasn’t it just last week that he was learning to crawl? Saying “mama!” for the first time? I swear, he just learned how to go up and down the stairs.
But I guess it wasn’t last week. It was three years ago. And he didn’t say “mama!” for the first time last week, either. It was in August of 2008 (!) that he started that. And now? Now he will be four years old in three months. Now it’s been three years since he learned to talk, started learning to walk, started turning into a real person. He will be four in three months. That’s almost a whole hand of years.
He is so very excited to be joining the older kids’ class. I think he’s been ready for a while, but being able to transition slowly has been great for him. There is something so important about being able to be the “big kid” in a group. I don’t ever want him to feel like he is lacking in intelligence or skills, so even if it only lasted a few months it was good for him to feel like he was “the best” at counting, matching colors and speaking. But now it’s time for him to be the youngest, and to be challenged. To see how well the older kids can write, recognize letters and numbers, play sports.
My baby, my little man, is movin’ on up.
I made a big mistake, guys. I blinked.