Goodbye to preschool

Tomorrow is Luke's last day at our preschool. It's been at the center of our lives for four of the last five years. At the very heart of the heart. And, to make it even more deeply felt, I think I always thought of the preschool years when I thought of parenthood. Preschool is the epitome. (Well, let's hope that's not true.) I remember when I was a nanny for a little boy named Michael when I was in college. He was three. I remember making him a solar system from styrofoam balls and putting on the Magic School Bus and Sesame Street and driving him around on errands and to the park. What a little companion he was, and totally his own person, too. In my life, it was the cottage on Smallwood Lane and Mr. Roger's neighborhood and Happy House preschool and my tire swing. That car driving slowly on the windy, wooded lane at the beginning of Sesame Street (or was it the end?) as credits rolled -- that still brings back that whole emotional landscape of preschool. To be the parent in that landscape, the grown up. Wow. It's hard to express how powerfully magical it is. To find your little self, still 3 and 4, now taking on that role with your own little one going off to paint and do playdough and to share the teeter totter. Your own little one's fat hands doing Itsy Bitsy spider, just like you did.

Except at this preschool, we didn't just play, we also learned a lot from gifted and kind-hearted teachers about talking to our kids, being patient, resolving conflict, and generally being better parents -- and people. Of course, it's still a work in progress,  but I feel like I'm graduating from an educational institution after working there every week four years. And I pretty much am.

The last song we sing every day at school is "MCPC's over now, it's time to say goodbye." Tomorrow I'm afraid it's going to rip my heart out to sing that.

And later this month Luke will turn five. Four has been amazing and delightful.

I thought I would take some time to finally record some of the wonderful things Luke's said over the past year. I've got them on post-its, envelopes, napkins and in cell phone notes here and there. Some are quite old now. Better late than never.

Here they are, presented with enormous love.

In August: "When we die, we have to say goodbye."
Me: "Yeah."
Luke: "But scientists think that after you die, you come back as a baby."

Me: "You know how to change your shirt, so you can do it yourself."
Luke: "Yeah, but I'm not an expert… Is Daddy an expert at swimming?"
Me: "No, but he knows how to swim."
Luke: "Could Daddy swim from the kitchen to Hawaii?"

"If dandelions make dandelion seeds, then there had to be a first dandelion."
Me: "Yeah."
Luke: "So? Was there?"

In December: "It's a good thing my knees can bend right here" (jumping).

After Daddy tells him that the tattoo on his shoulder will last forever: "But…when you die you turn to dust, so…" (slight cringe, open-palmed shrug -- sorry, Daddy, you'll be ___ out of luck at that point with the tattoo).

Said earnestly (as it all is) and near my ear: "I'm going to tell you a secret. I might actually be the fastest person in the country."

In January: "I love my life." Sigh. "Yeah, it's true."

Later that month, "I wish I could live my whole life all over again" (meant positively -- because it's so worth re-experiencing).

Out of nowhere to me: "What was the name the name of the elementary school you went to when you were a kid?"

In February: "I can't wait to be a grown up."
Me: "Why?"
Luke: "I just can't wait to get to the third level of life. I want to know what it feels like."

In March: "You can't know everything and not know everything at the same time, right?"
Asked with a light laugh of figuring something out after a lunchtime spent chatting about topics he introduced, such as:
- "What are all the entry points in your head?"
- "We're not just on the earth, we're in the earth, right?"
- "I think they put Coyote in other books, but I think he made everybody when he was a grown up."
- "Is this my blood?"
- "Is the yellow stuff inside the bee tree the honeycomb?"
- "Why do sharks eat fishes whole if they have food pipes and blood and stuff like that in them?"
- "There's lots of reasons why you need your brain."
(One of the things I loved about preschool was picking up Luke at noon on most days and chatting with him like this over a leisurely lunch, just the two of us. Really, does it get much better than that?)

In March: "I'm not saying that I want to die, but I can't wait to find out what it's like."

"Halina, it's kind of weird that womens have nursings that give milk, and daddys just have decoration nursings."

"If an elephant jumped into the ocean, how big of a splash would it make?"

In April: "Is the inside of a treasure chest warm?"
Me: "I don't know. What do you think?"
Luke: "I think... yes."

In May, "I've lived before."
Us: "Like other lives, as other people?"
Luke (as if surprised we need to ask): "…Yes!"
Us: "How many other lives did you live?"
Luke (after brief thought): "Nineteen. Well, this is number nineteen and there were eighteen before this one."

I'm so grateful to be part of this one.

Some pictures from MCPC's beach field trip yesterday at Lake Temescal. Last MCPC field trip ever.