She is three.
Three years and five months, to be a little more precise.
She is a girl who depends on routine, who is leary about new people, places, and things. She's not a fan of elements that invade on her personal space. She needs time to warm up, to get a feel for the lay of the land. When she engages, it absolutely has to be on her terms. If you attempt too soon or push it, she will fight you, balk, and otherwise protect herself. In this way, she is very much like me.
Yesterday, she started preschool.
I have been anxious about this transition for awhile. It was a huge change coming--entirely new place, people, and cadence to her day. I had zero expectations as to how well she'd handle it, and millions of worrisome scenarios. I tried to sell her on the novelty - a lunchbox! Purple crocs! This is all fun, fun, fun!
We drove up to the school. All the novelty talk had her pumped, but as soon as I parked, she started with the worry squeaks, as I call them.
Still, we marched on in. She changed into her indoor shoes without a fight, but otherwise clung to me as we approached the circle of kids on the other side of the classroom. She didn't want to sit down. She pleaded for me to stay. She wanted to play with the blocks. I hesitated to answer because of the thoughts in my head of Oh My God She's Already Going Rogue...but her teacher, bless her heart, told her yes, go ahead...and then educated me on the methods of transitioning her in, giving her free rein first and foremost to make her comfortable; that the acceptance of the group needs will come with time, don't worry.
At this point, S, doubled-back quickly asking for a kiss, and asking if I was leaving now. Just like that, she was ok with staying there without me. Not bouncing off the walls happy, mind you, but with a resolute look of acceptance that this is where she needs to be now.
And oh--OH--oh my heart. It was a bittersweet moment: proud that she was brave to take this new step without much of a fuss, but also sadness that she's growing up.
