Yesterday was Lucy’s first day of preschool. As much as I’d worried about it, she ended up being pretty excited to go.
Julia was proud of her.
Ah, sisterly love.
Yeah, the kind of love that bruises your face.
Do you see it?
There it is!
Julia celebrated Labor Day by going all Naomi Campbell and throwing a phone that ended up wrecking her sister’s face, just in time for preschool!
Julia was very sorry (and very punished) and Lucy was very forgiving.
Lucy’s first day went, well, alright? I guess?
She told Dave she had a delicious snack of graham crackers and apples; she told me they didn’t feed her at all.
She told Dave no one would play with her; she told me all about her new friends. So, huh?
Preschoolers are such liars.
When I’d gone to pick her up, she burst into tears as soon as she saw me, but she wouldn’t tell me why she was upset. She was adamant that, “I don’t want to talk about it!” All I could get from her was that she’d made a mistake, so I headed back in to check with her teacher about what was wrong. Apparently, right at the end of the day, Lucy got to play with trains, but she simply didn’t have enough time to truly explore the trains, and so she got mad when it was time to put them away. The teacher said she’d had a fantastic day. The I-don’t-want-to-put-away-the-trains-foot-stomping-alright-I’ll-put-away-the-trains incident was the only wrinkle. I guess it just happened so close to the end of the day, she hadn’t had time to get over it. And she decided that one bad thing tainted the entire day and she couldn’t call it a good day because it wasn’t a perfect day. (She is so my child, by the way.)
I still tried to get from her, in her words, what had happened on the way home, but she wasn’t talking.
“Maybe you’ll tell me about it later,” I said.
And she replied, “I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to talk about it today. Or later today. Or another day. I will NEVER talk about it, Mom. Never ever.”
On the way to school today, she assured me it would be better. Considering the way she came bounding out of the building, a smile beaming from her face like sunshine, I’m pretty sure it was. I can’t tell you much more because when I asked her to tell me about school she said, “It was so good, I don’t want to talk about it!”
I think I’m going to have to hire a spy.