Here's a quick rundown of how our first week of preschool went:
Monday, Day One.
Q begins crying before we leave the house. I carry him to the car and hold him down so I can get his seatbelt on. He cries for most of the 35 min drive. He refuses to get out of the car. I carry him to his classroom door. I hug and kiss him, tell him I love him. He asks if I'll be back later to pick him up. I promise to pick him up, give him one last kiss and hand him off to his teacher. He is still sobbing. A number of mothers offer their support and sympathy as we all walk to our cars. After I turn on my air conditioning I call Monkey Man and cry too. When I pick him up, Q says he had fun.
Tuesday, Day Two.
As I'm getting stuff together to leave, Q begins to cry. He throws himself on my bed and says he needs to take a nap first. I carry him to the car. He tells me he didn't have fun at school yesterday. I tell him I'm sorry and hope that he'll have a better day today. He calms down and tells me he will have a better day. As I take the last turn toward school he starts crying again. He stops crying by the time we park. I take him into his classroom so he can show me where he puts his sun hat. We repeat the hugs, kisses, I-love-yous, and promises to be back later. He seems ok, and I leave the classroom secretly thinking, "Victory!" Just before I get to the school yard gate, Q throws open the door to his classroom, screaming and sobbing. His teacher leads him back inside, and I spend the next few hours feeling like some sort of evil person. When I pick him up, he says he had fun.
Wednesday, Day Three.
Q keeps repeating all morning, "I don't want to go to school." I try to talk about other things. I point out all the older kids walking to schools we pass during our drive. I walk him into his classroom, help him change his shoes. As I go for my hugs and kisses, he turns around and starts toward one of the little girls to see what she's doing. I grab him anyway. There is a tiny look of anxiety on his sweet face as I wave from the door. I practically run for the gate in case his repeats the screaming from the door trick. When I pick him up, he smiles and seems pleased, but he doesn't fling himself at me like the last two days. Then he asks if we can stay for a little longer so he can play in the sandbox for a bit. He says he had fun.
It was worse and better than I imagined. Which pretty much sums up most of my parenting experiences.