Back to School

Today was Daniel's first day at his new preschool. I was so excited for him, nervous about him making new friends (which is silly, I mean, he's three, its not like its junior high or anything). Today stood in sharp contrast to last year when there was crying and lots of tears when I left him in his St. Catherine's classroom. Today, we came in, and he happily ran off to play after putting his stuff in his cubby. After hugging me, he never looked back. And that's how it should be, and it made me proud. But at the same time, when I looked at him playing all the way across the room as Georgia and I were walking out the door, I felt kind of like, who is this little boy and where did he come from. After we got home from school, we sat on the couch and he told me what he did, the names of some of the kids in his class, what games they played, stories they read. He just seemed like... well, a kid. I'm becoming acutely aware that I'm a mom to a boy. A boy who laughs at fart jokes (and makes them up as well), is long and lanky, silly, and grubby. I've also learned something else today. Taking care of Georgia, the 18 months old whirlwind, without the benefit of her brother to entertain her is HARD WORK.