As I said a few pathetic posts ago, Liam has started preschool. We were so excited to discover that one of the most highly recommended preschools from friends was at a church not a half a mile down the road from our new house. We checked it out and liked it a lot. We planned for Liam to go last year, but potty training wasn't to be, so we looked forward to this fall when he would start. I was so excited for him. We had a trial run with Vacation Bible School, which mostly went ok. I mean, he did have a full-on melt-down on day two. And day three they said he didn't listen to the Bible stories at all, but simply ran around in circles.
I asked him why he didn't listen. "I did, mama!" and he proceeded to tell me the stories in their entirety, and sing the songs to boot. "But were you sitting down to listen? on your bummy?"
"No, mama! I thought it was running time. I can do two things at once, you know..."
In retrospect six hours a day for a solid week might not have been a good way to try things out...
still he survived it, and appeared to like it...
so we thought that three days a week, three hours a day would be a good foray into school.
I was worried when we dropped him off that day. Worried and sad. I mean, he was going to belong to someone else for part of the day. No longer would he be entirely ours. I saw those cubbies with their names on them....and the flag where they would say the pledge of allegiance.... it was all too much for me. I was now the mom of a school-aged kid.
HE wasn't worried in the least. HE tripped off away from us, barely lifting his cheek for a kiss. School was great.
In those first few weeks, we heard such praise from his teacher "He's so creative. He's so smart. He's always the first one to use his manners. You're doing such a good job with him."
and then one day we picked him up and she said "Uhm... I need to talk to you."
My sweet, creative, smart boy hit a girl at school.
We talked a lot about how he should choose other things to do when he's upset. We let him choose. "What else could you do with your hands instead of hitting when you're mad?"
"I know! I could clap my hands!"
so the next day when he got angry with her he reached his arms out and clapped vigorously in her face.
That's my child. King of the loophole.
Anyway, we worked hard and thinking up things like walk away, think of Disneyland... etc. and the most important of all: Let Miss T handle it. She's the teacher.
So the girl threw his ice cream toy the next day, but he came home proudly saying "I let Miss T handle it."
When his class pictures arrived the other day, I was curious... which of these adorable girls is the one my boy can't manage to get along with? Which girl is the one you got angry with Liam? "I wasn't angry mama" "ok... which one played with the barn in a way that you didn't want her to?" "I wonder, Mama" "ok...which one is the one you hit?" "I don't know Mama"
I turned to el husbando and said, "I wonder if at another house somewhere in the Valley some mother is saying "Which of these boys is the one that hit you?"
anyway, I let it go, but this morning he said "I'll ask Miss T which girl I hit"
I panicked. No no no no no THere's no need for that-- I just wanted to see which girl it was because everyone has good inside them and I want you to practice being her friend and finding the good in her.
"Ok. I'll ask Miss T what the good in that girl is."
ugh.