Wednesday, September 7, 2016


Who started attending a preschool co-op? This guy. I'll be honest: he doesn't need the school part of it at all. At all. Colors and shapes? Please. Do you want them in Spanish or English? Jude lives for octagons. Counting is a breeze. He stops me numerous times each day to explain what letter a word starts with and which other words rhyme with that word. His current conquest is alliteration. He is three. Academia, meet your match. 

Now let's talk social skills, shall we? When I was a kid, I would do anything to disappear when forced into a group of people I didn't know. This is why I spent recesses during my entire semester of kindergarten with my hat pulled over my eyes. Actually, that was so the kids playing tag couldn't see me. I don't think it worked. The point is that I was born socially awkward and, though I've learned to fake it under duress, I'll die socially awkward. Kris meets me there. Our daughter is some strange Aphrodite who basks in the reciprocal adulation of the masses. Our son? He's a cagey soul with a lethal stink eye who saves himself for the last ten minutes of the pool party, having an absolute blast once all of the other kids have removed their pruney bodies and he's got the whole place to himself. We understand him better.

And that's where preschool comes in. We want him to develop the confidence to exist (dare I say thrive?) without coasting on Eden's social coattails or hiding in my arms. To learn to advocate for himself. To learn to endure his initial shyness and open himself up to friendship. To be a little bit better at that than we are.  

Good luck, Jude.  And don't worry: We can still hide out at home, alone, the other five days of the week!