I have sent four children off to school. I love school and school has been wonderful for my children. They (his teachers and such) suggested that Andrew do "summer school" so that he keeps up his consistent little routine and gets his therapies and all. Great. Sounds like a plan. Wonderful.
I cried. For two weeks, I have had all my ducklings in the house - our very loud, rowdy house, I might add. Andrew had to go to a different school with a different teacher. His beloved Sunny was not there, and while a very kind woman who looked lovingly at 10 wide-eyed special needs ducks told me that her boys were grown and that this job is her "heart" (Lord, bless these teachers), it was still quite difficult to remove the chubby arms from around my neck and walk out the door. Andrew very bravely kissed me smack on the mouth, told me "no bye-bye Mommy" (translation - will you take my cute butt home with you, please??) and sat down to have some cereal. I said all the polite correct things to new teacher and took deep breaths to make it to the car lest I be the crying mommy in the hall (forbid that!).
And, while I am the first to say that babies are babies and belong at home (he is only three after all), if I did not see that he (a) really did love it and (b) does so much better with a structured routine, I would live on the beach and eat bon-bons and live off love and never let my kids leave. Jeff was third in line to pick him up (I had to send Jeff as I had the B's at their five year old physicals - a story in itself) and I was chawing at the bit to get home and get those chubby arms back around my neck. He was quite pleased to see me and his brothers. I know already what words they worked on today, as he grabbed my hand and said, "help, please, Mommy" (normally it is just HELP). So I guess I'll send him back tomorrow. Sigh. You would think I would be used to it by now.
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