Preschool Progress

Jemma's first "progress report" came home from preschool in her little red bag today.  I put progress report in quotes because, come on, they're three; how much progress can they have made with Play-Doh and "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" in the approximately nine two-hour sessions they've had so far this year?

In spite of my skepticism, I smiled when I read it.

"We are very pleased with how beautifully Jemma has adapted to our classroom and her progress is very appropriate.  She's a delight!"


Last Thursday, Jason and I got to take Jemma to her classroom for a Parents' Night (no siblings!) and get a little glimpse into how she spends her hours there.  When we brought Annie to this night three years ago, I remember locking eyes with Connie across the room and exchanging looks of "holy-crap-my-kid's-in-preschool-and-we-really-aren't-in-college-anymore" while watching Annie and Ben do their thing.  This time, everything just seemed normal.  It feels normal to have a pre-schooler.  It feels normal to stand back and watch her frost a sugar cookie, sing a song about a worm, recite a nursery rhyme with motions.

Jemma was so proud to show us what she does, and so poised among her classmates.  She exudes a bright, happy confidence and she glibly calls out every answer when Miss Ruth and Miss Diane ask questions.  She folds her hands to pray before she eats, she asks for a million glasses of water, and she is not the very last one done eating.   She knows how to write all her letters, spells STOP and ANNA and DAD and LOVE with letter tiles.  She can zip her coat.  She wants to empty the contents of her red bag the second I pick her up from the playground because she cannot wait one moment more to show me the things she has made.

It's true.  She is a delight.