From Preschool to College

Annie woke up yesterday morning at 5:45. When Jason left for work at 7:00, she threw a half-hour-long fit because, "I WANT DADDY! I WANT MY DADDY! GET OUT OF HERE! I WANT DADDY!" Nothing like starting the week off with a big, pointless battle and feeling like the no-fun parent.

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At school, also yesterday, her class had a Thanksgiving "feast," which parents were invited to but which I wasn't able to attend because it was a No Siblings Allowed situation and I had no plan for Jemma. So I dropped Annie off, promised I'd be at the Gingerbread Party in December, and came back at 11:20 to find her - surprise! - still eating. She was the last one still sitting at the table, methodically eating every little morsel of food on her plate. She is routinely the last one done with snack, I know, but this was literally like Thanksgiving dinner and it was clearly going to take her another fifteen minutes or so to finish. I sat down. I talked to her teachers. I started gathering up all her Thanksgiving-themed art projects from the week before and shoving them into her bag.

Miss Jenny was taking down a bulletin board full of little construction paper handprints. "Here's Annie's; you can take it home." She handed it to me. It said, "Annie is thankful for her mom."

Then I looked at the laminated placemat Annie was eating on, one she had made on another day. It said the same thing.

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This morning, Annie had a make-up dance class. (Miss Amy, her teacher, had to miss the first week of scheduled classes in September because she hurt her back, so she rescheduled the session for today.) For the first half, during ballet, Annie was completely off-task - running around, crawling on the floor and barking, tickling the other girls, not paying attention at all. I was out in the lobby, watching, wanting to march in there and drag her out. When she came out to change into her tap shoes, I offered her the choice of putting tap shoes on and staying to be a good listener or putting boots on and going home. She chose to stay and proceeded to wow me with twenty solid minutes of near-perfect dance. They were practicing for their upcoming recital (dancing to I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus) and she was amazing. Later, she explained to me that it wasn't really a make-up class, because they didn't wear any make-up.

The rest of today, we stayed inside. Jemma took a nap and Annie played with her jewelry and hair accessories before coming to find me when her rest time was up. I was lying in my bed, reading. She climbed in with me and we somehow started talking about school, and how she'd eventually go for the whole day and even eat lunch there. She started rattling off the grades - "And then I'll be in first grade, and then second grade, and then . . . ." and I explained how after fifth grade she'd go to middle school, and after middle school she'd go to high school. She was rapt with attention, her eyes big.

"And THEN what???"

"And then you'll go to college."

"Where will college be?" she asked.

"I don't know. Wherever you decide you want to go."

"And I'll live there? And eat lunch there?" She seemed thrilled by this possibility.

"Yep," I said. "And you'll meet lots of new people and make new friends and learn so many things."

"But can I come home if you invite me?" she asked. And I know she asked that because we've been trying to explain lately how you have to be invited to play at friend's houses and not just call them up and ask to come over, but suddenly real tears were rolling down my cheeks. Talking about it that way made it seem like it's all going to go by so fast, in a snap, and then I'll have a daughter who may or may not deign to visit me at Thanksgiving, crash at our house for part of a summer.

After that, we played college. She put some books in her backpack and drove away on the Wiggles red car. She called me on her pink princess cell phone, and I invited her to come home for Thanksgiving. She accepted. She did not bring home a carful of laundry.

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While we waited for our peanut butter cookies to bake before dinner, Annie drew with crayons at the dining room table. I was washing dishes and could hear her singing The ABC's to herself. "A, B, C, D, E" and then she'd stop. A second later: "A, B, C, D, E, F" and she'd stop again. Each time, she'd add one more letter. When I went to see what she'd drawn, I saw why she'd been singing that particular song to herself.