Ashton goes to school... A short story by Ashton's mommy.

Yes, my little man is growing up. Daddy and I decided a while back that we wanted to start Ashton at a day school when he turned two. It has been just he and I and, before that, it was just he and Nanny Laura. So, we agreed that it would be so wonderful for him to be able to socialize with some other little cuties his same age, as well as develop his social skills (i.e. sharing, interacting, the way a school day will go, being away from mommy, etc.) Not that he is lacking in these areas; he does quite well when he is with other little ones. Actually, one of the main reasons was that he was really starting to get separation anxiety when we would leave him in the church nursery. He would actually still be crying and clinging to the nursery sitter when we would go to get him after church was over. Not good. OK, so the wonderful day school that we really like (coincidentally the church that we attend; St. Luke's Methodist) has a waiting list. A long one. However, there were openings for their summer session. And even though Ashton won't be two until August, Daddy and I decided to take the plunge and enroll our little man for summer. Well... as the days led up to his first day, I was the one developing anxiety! I had NO idea it would be so hard for me!! The crying started about three days before his first day. I had so many fears; fear that he would wonder where I was and why I wasn't coming back to get him...fear that the teacher wouldn't console him if he was crying or upset...fear that the other kids would leave him out...fear that he would be lost in the mix of screaming, crazed children and would get no attention, etc. Yeah, lots of totally irrational fears. (I seriously hope other moms have felt this way and this is not a pre-cursor that I am going to be a psycho worry wart mom.) The first day came, and I was up about two hours before anyone else. Heart racing, sweaty palms, upset stomach. I packed and re-packed his lunch box and "pack-pack". I ironed three different outfit choices. When Ashton woke up, I spent some special quiet time with him, rocking and reading books. I kept thinking, "Poor little guy. He has no idea what he's in for today." I dressed him and re-dressed him, finally settling on outfit number one...pausing for hundreds of kisses and hugs throughout the process. I arranged for Daddy to stay at home with Emory so that I could stay as long as Ashton needed me in his classroom. His big, scary, smells like pine sol covering up the smell of throw up, over stimulating, cold classroom. We loaded up, said our goodbye's to Daddy and Emory and headed out. I cried silently in the front seat most of the way. I would wipe my eyes every so often and look at Ashton in the rear view mirror and reiterate how wonderful and great and fabulous SCHOOL was going to be. Putting great emphasis on SCHOOL. He looked at me like I was crazy. We got to the school, and I unloaded him, put his "pack-pack" on his back, and grabbed his lunch box...all with trembling hands. We got to his classroom. "Here we go", I thought, "No turning back." Well... the child RAN into the classroom and immediately starting playing with playdoh! "Well, at least he doesn't hate it right off the bat. But just wait till I leave", I thought. I put up his lunch box and backpack and introduced myself to the teacher. The room was not huge. It smelled nice. It wasn't cold. I warned the teacher that he was going to freak out when I left. I suggested that I just quietly sneak out. She giggled and told me to go give him a kiss and tell him goodbye. She assured me that she would be ready to cuddle him if he got upset. So, I went over to where he was playing and gave him a big kiss and told him that I was leaving. He looked up at me and said, "Bye bye Mama!!", turned around, and ran off to play. The end.