Where Is That Little Girl I Used to Know?

Gert,
originally uploaded by scifitwin.

It was today. The first day of pre-school. Or Early Hile Chood, depending on whom you ask. And the first day of fifth grade. I think I may have reasonably composed myself to speak again.

Yeah, that’s right. I cried. Like a baby. I wept like she was Anna Karenina. And I’ll probably feel the lump for hours.

Yesterday was Meet the Teacher. And we did, indeed, meet the teacher. She is a kind, sweet woman named Miss Christine who seems the type who is put on Earth to Shepard terrified children through some of their first “big kid” hurdles.

Gertrude walked around the room, investigate the toys and activities, spoke with the teacher and fell in love with a very small trampoline. When it was time to go, she was adamant that she wanted to stay. Perhaps she was more ready for school than I had assumed.

Later, when we were shopping, she told me that sometimes when she’s away from me for a while that she gets sad.

“So I just sit by myself and do something,” she said. “Sometimes my eyes get wet and I talk like a frog. But then I smile and the smilies make me feel better.”

We arrived this morning and she put her bag in her cubbie. She found her name on a list and investigated the room. As other kids started to file in she became nervous. Then as they actually began to talk to her, she looked at us.

“I don’t want you to go,” she said with a look on her face that was a mixture of panic and fear.

I know she’s okay. And I know it’s only for three hours (two now) and that she’ll have a blast. I know that I’ll pick her up and we’re going to eat lunch together and have a great talk.

This is my job as a dad. I’m supposed to raise kids, prepare them for the world and help them be kind, generous human beings. And I am proud. Daily. So proud that every time I hear this song, I swell with pride and I nod thinking, “Yeah, Stew. You know it.”

However, letting go is difficult, even though we know we should be proud.

But we did. We did leave her there, even though she didn’t want us to. I walked out the door and felt my eyes getting wet. Chris looked at me and held my hand, but all I could do was croak like a frog.