You are forty-five months old today. Three-and-three-quarters. Pretty soon, I’ll just have to start saying “almost four,” won’t I?
One of the biggest developments this month – which I don’t believe I’ve blogged about yet, come to think of it – is that you’ve decided that you want to go to school again in the fall. At the same Mother’s Day Out program where you went back in March.
A couple of weeks ago, we were at the Farmer’s Market and ended up walking past the church where it’s held, and I said, “That’s the building where you went to school.”
We talked about that a little bit, and you seemed okay about it, so I said, “Just out of curiousity – they are on summer break right now, but they will start school there again in a few weeks. Would you like to try it again then?”
I was quite certain that you would say no, but I thought I’d ask. Boy was I surprised when you said, “Yes!” and when you said that you want to go there and not a different school.
So, we went home and talked to Mommy about it, and called the school, and they’re holding a spot for you in the preschool class (12/1/2008 – 8/31/2007 birthdays), on Wednesday and Friday mornings.
This time, we’re going to really ease into it carefully, though. We’re thinking that the first week, you’ll go for two hours (unless we get there to pick you up and you want to stay) and move up from there. It’s a five hour day, so we’re going to take our time working up to that.
I don’t really know how it’s going to go when it actually comes down to it. I suspect that there will be some tears on drop-off, but I really, really, really hope that you get happy pretty quickly and have fun.
Last week and this, you’ve gone to “summer dance” at the ballet school, and that’s about how it’s gone. Every day, you’ve been hesitant about getting dressed and heading down there. (If “hesitant” is the right word for “No, Mama! Please don’t make me go to dance class!”) and almost every day, you’ve cried (and clung to me and again with the “No, Mama, please!”) when it was time to go in the room without me, but Mrs. C. reports that you always settle down pretty much as soon as the door closes, and an hour later, you come out with a big smile on your face, telling me that you had fun.
So, every day, I’ve made you go, and reassured you that “You might miss me a little bit, but you will have lots of fun, just like yesterday,” and “I’ll be right here in the waiting room.”
And every day, I’ve felt like the meanest mother ever for making you go in that room when you were begging not to.
On the other hand, you and Mommy have had at least two more “dates” this month, during which you went out for dinner and ice cream, while I went out with some of the MOMS for drinks and such. That seems to be going very well, and – knock wood – you’ve not had any trouble going to sleep with Mommy when I’m not home.
Of course, if I am home, there will be none of that. You still need your goody to go to sleep, and usually in the morning when you wake up, and often – but not always – a quickie or two during the day.
Your greatest hits from the past month:
Overheard from the bedroom, where you were jumping on the bed: Peeper: I’m having fun! Mommy: You’d better stop that. There will be no fun-having in this house! Peeper: Here goes some fun! Fun! Fun! Fun!
You couldn’t play on the iPad, because it was charging, so you said, “That does it!”
You wanted to paint, which is a nakey activity at our house.
You were wearing your footy jammies, but you told me, “I unbuttoned them,” and spread open unsnapped part, exposing your tummy. “Is this enough nakey?”
Talking about the chairs at the dining table, you said, “So, of course, there’s two of us, so we’re sittting in one, two chairs!”
You’ve started doing the “sad trombone” wah-wah-wahhh sound effect at appropriate times.
A couple of weeks ago, Mommy caught and released a vole. From the laundry room. You touched the cup it was in so I made you wash up. You started crying that “I wanted to keep my mouse hands!”
You and Mommy were going downstairs to play. You came back up to get a little chair (actually a clip-on highchair that you’ve reclaimed) and headed back to the stairs.
I said, “Mommyyy?” and she said, “I’m here. No worries.”
To which you added, “Akuma atatta, Mama!” (Hakuna matata) “Means ‘no worries!'”
Speaking of that, the only part of The Lion King that you’ve seen is the Hakuna Matata sequence. You are convinced that the baby lion’s name is Akuma Atatta, and that Pumba and Timon are his parents.
You come in the office looking for your crown, and saying “I need to find something princely.”
Mommy reports that she told you the other day that “You better marry someone rich so you don’t have to have so much broken stuff in your house,” and you replied, “No, I don’t want to marry someone rich. I want to marry someone happy.”
I’m hoping that you find someone who is both.
Any too many other amazing, hilarious and surprising things to remember.
Happy 3/4 birthday, little Peep.
I love you.