Preschool Panic: You're Ready

It's really happening: the Muffin Man is starting preschool.

This week, we're attending a series of play dates at Noah's new school so that he has a chance to become comfortable in the space and gets to meet his fellow classmates and the teachers.  I know these play dates are designed to help with the transition process, but I was mostly thrilled to have this opportunity to suss out just how many crazy parents I might have to avoid at drop-off every morning.

So far, everyone seems both normal and hip, so it's entirely possible I'm the crazy parent.  Note to self: call therapist to discuss this possibility and get refill on Xanax.

But I digress.
 
My friends, the school we chose (or, rather, ended up at) is magical.

Oh sure, I paid lip service to everything happening for a reason and how I was sure this was the right place for us, and blah blah blah, and I remember thinking after our tour that the school was incredibly charming, but today, when we walked through the gate and Noah instantly made himself at home, I felt as though the skies opened up with sunbeams and the angels started singing.  All the anxiety and sleepless nights I'd spent worrying about Noah becoming a drop or and a street kid thanks to my abject failure at the preschool application process were for naught.  My son is going to blossom at this place, and I'm not just saying that because they have a bed of giant Sunflowers growing in the yard.

According to my observations, this is what my son will be doing at school:

Burying himself in the sand.  I am sure that digging and raking and scooping sand teaches children valuable lessons about something scientific, but I failed "Rocks for Jocks" (AKA Geology) so I have no idea what that could be.

Drowning his friends in the water table. There's nothing like seeing how long your friend can hold his breath to initiate a stimulating Health Class on CPR!

Checking out what other kids are eating for lunch.  My only hope is that his curiosity with regards to what his friends are eating for lunch results in his deciding to broaden his current dinner rotation of brown rice, plain pasta, and pizza.

Finding out if red paint really does stain all his clothing.  Um, yes, it does, which is reason number 462 I buy all of his clothes used.  If I were a really good Mother I would use laundry day as a teaching opportunity about surfactants and soap and whatever, but that's never going to happen and, as a reminder, I failed science.

Small toilets are more fun than toys.  I'm sure the novelty will wear off eventually, but so far I've taken Noah to the bathroom seven times during our hour-long play dates, and it's only Tuesday.

Come to think of it, preschool sounds amazing.  I wouldn't want to stay home with me and Baby Sister either.  Especially since I try to pass off helping unload the dishwasher as "developmental play".