Today was Nicknack's second day of preschool. And probably his last day, at least for a while.
We dropped him off this morning, watching and waiting to see how he would do. Things seemed better. Instead of obsessing over the one station, like on Monday, he flitted from station to station, stopping to interact with others. Also, several other children threw tantrums for various reasons, which made us feel like he was doing pretty well, in comparison. After ten minutes we realized we were the only parents still lingering and drove to a nearby cafe for breakfast.
As we waited for our meal we discussed this whole preschool thing. We both feel that if he isn't emotionally ready, who cares? We agreed that it is probably too much for him. He's so... emotional these days. But if things went smoothly today and next week, we decided we'd probably keep him in the class.
About fifteen minutes into our omelets the director of the preschool, our Pastor's lovely wife, telephoned. (She is so cute and from Ireland, so she has the neatest accent in the world.) Nicknack was having problems transitioning from one activity to the next and had become inconsolable over the gentle suggestion that he join in on some group activity or another. He was eventually brought down to play with toys in the office. And he was asking for me.
So we had our breakfasts boxed up and made a beeline back to our church.
We discussed the situation with Mrs. B and she suggested we try one more day. If he didn't adjust they would save a spot for him and we could try again next month or in January or next year.
Honestly, I don't think we'll even try one more day.
Before class started, we got there a few minutes early and had to wait, resulting in a meltdown. Oh, and then there was the tantrum this morning while I tried to get him ready for school because he wanted to go out the door to see his friend (whom he was looking all over the house for - although she's never even been in our home) right that VERY second. Then there was the huge fit when he realized we were leaving school and not taking him out to the playground. We felt as if we are torturing him with all these emotional ups and downs. The whole way home he was calling out his friend's name and begging us to take him back to the playground. (We couldn't because it was the four-year-old class outdoor time.) I sat in the front seat trying not to cry along with him. He was just SO upset and disappointed. He loves the people and the environment. Just not the actual "school" part.
Let's face it. He's not ready for preschool! It's just too much for him to handle. I don't want to put him through this even one time more.
He'll still get to play in that same classroom, with the same toys, with many of the same kids, and on that same playground twice a week - on my ladies' Bible study day and on Sundays, while we're at church.
So that's that. I just need to call Mrs. B and e-mail my friend, his teacher, to let them know what we've decided.
I feel kind of silly because I got so excited about this whole preschool thing. To let you know how worthwhile I thought it would be? I actually IRONED. Let me let that statement sink in.
I haven't used my iron in a few years, probably. At least. In fact, I didn't even know that I didn't have an ironing board until my mother visited last year and needed one. (She went out and bought one for us.) I've always felt that life is just too short to iron. I try very hard to pull our clothes out of the dryer when the buzzer rings and fold them or hang them and put them away right away. To avoid ironing. And if I don't, I "fluff" them in the dryer with a wet washcloth. Terribly environmentally unfriendly, I know. I'm trying to break the habit by being extremely diligent about the immediate folding/hanging policy.
But on Sunday night I actually ironed Nicholas's outfits for the week! It took me well over an hour to iron three little t-shirts, button down shirts, and pairs of pants.
But one thing is for sure. He may be a preschool drop out, but he looked so darn cute these past few days that I could hardly stand it.