First day for the last one

Today was the day. Today was the day I couldn't visualize long ago because I felt as though I was stealing the freedom that was not rightfully mine. It was only 2.5 hours, but they were there for me to do with what I want once I dropped my youngest off at his first day of preschool.

He did not go as eagerly as his brothers had, but he did not break down and cling to my leg, either. No, he did what is typical of him and displayed his stubborn side, but the curiosity about what lay ahead inside the classroom led him into the classroom without hesitation and the teacher didn't have to coerce him in as I had just done getting him from the van to inside the school.

When I picked him up after school, his cheeks were red from the hot sun and having been playing on the playground. But he didn't have fun. He didn't enjoy his snack of goldfish and two drinks of apple juice. He didn't make friends with Sam because he met Sam the other day and he "already knew him".

He didn't say he wasn't going back next week. He didn't contradict the teacher's statement about what a great day he had, either. That is Jeffrey just being Jeffrey. He wasn't impressed when we told him he looked different today. He looked smarter. He looked older. Could it be because he was in school now like the rest of the boys?

So we -- or I should say he -- survived his first day of preschool. For three afternoons a week, all four of my children will be in school. And this new freedom will never be more appreciated.