Tuesday is Violet's first day at preschool. I will be with her, and it will only last an hour. But Wednesday will be longer, and then Thursday, Friday, the weekend, and then POOF... the following week she'll be full time.
The time has gone faster than I imagined it would, and I feel less "ready" than I hoped. Frankly, I'm terrified. And heartbroken.
This is just different this time... Daniel was in preschool from 7 weeks old. Before a personality had emerged, really. (No offense, little guy.) I didn't know any other option existed. This time, it's a walking, talking (kind of) little lady with personality and attachment needs. A little lady I have gotten to know (and adore) at home for months. This is a hundred times harder.
I'm sure she'll do fine. Daniel thrives in preschool. The structure... the social aspect... he loves it. Violet will too, right?
Secretly, though, I'm hoping that she DOESN'T do well so I have to pull her out and figure out some way to stay home.
That doesn't make me a bad mom, does it?
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