“We’re just visiting.” I say. My voice catches in a way that I really wish it wouldn’t.
I run the unpolished fingers of one hand through a loosened ponytail, while tightening my finger-lace with Brody in the other.
She smiles at me through clear-glossed lips and bang-fringed eyes.
Our shoulders graze, and she places one hand on my arm when I say, “He just turned three this fall. He wasn’t ready to go then.”
“I thought this would be good practice,” I add, crossing my arms, realizing their empty.
We follow his back as he steps towards the toys, the children, the carpet.
“He just might be,” she says kindly.
Side by side we watch him find his fit.
He sits next to a girl with tight blond ringlets. “Here,” he says, handing her a plastic oreo. Her face lights.
They sit knee to knee munching oreos and giggling friendship.
“He just might be,” she says again. I agree.
So I signed Brody up for one-day-a-week preschool for this spring, and he started last week.
My voice caught again at drop off, and that was okay.
“Brody is a good listener and a good friend,” his report read. Which of course, I already knew.
But it was good, so so very good, for him to know, too.
That night at dinner, over chicken and raspberries and carrots that he did NOT like, he had stories to share that were his own.
We each have a VeryOwn now.
And this tugs at my heartstrings, of course it does.
But mostly, I’m happy for that smile and his VeryOwn and my VeryOwn, too.
Because y’all? Two hours to myself! Every Friday!
Word of mouth is the absolute best thing that can happen for anything, really. Please help me get the word out about:
- Buy a book, fight cancer. Find out about Write for the Fight here.
- Inspire creativity in someone (young!) that you love. Find out about Pens and Paint here.