She looks impossibly small, suddenly, next to all these other kids. Although they're only a year or two older than her, they seem to tower over her, all gangly arms and shrieking mouths and long legs. They clap along with the singing and punch each other in the arms and giggle and act like kids. I look down at her, at her rounded baby-cheeks, her wide blue eyes taking it all in. Her hand holding mine tightens as she looks around in awe.
We visited Charlotte's preschool yesterday. It's official: she'll be starting in the fall, three afternoons a week. The visit went really well. I loved the school (it's run by our church)--the teachers we met were very friendly, the facilities were new and clean and organized, they have special art and music classes, and even do YOGA (I want to go to preschool!).
But I had that moment...that cliched, Hallmark-card moment when I looked down at my baby and realized she's not a baby. Even though she seemed all round belly and toddler-face yesterday, I know that by next September, she'll be taller and leaner and more capable, and she'll be the little girl in braids hugging her friend spontaneously as they walk to their classroom. She'll be the one learning and painting and singing and making friends. That moment when I thought of her little hand slipping out of mine and into one of her little friends's as they walked down the hall...well, I got a little teary-eyed.
She'll love it, of course. I remember how excited I was for school when I was a little girl. She's been begging to go to school like our neighbor boy for months. September, to her, probably seems like an eternity away.
But for me, it'll come so quickly.