“I am so not a crier.” I thought. And then God laughed.

Maybe I am just pro-active, and like to stay ahead of things. Maybe my theory on motherhood and vulnerability keeps proving true: Children, at all different ages, have a freakish way of exposing pockets of vulnerability you didn’t even know existed.

I didn’t even make it THROUGH THE FIRST DAY of pre-K. Our daughter had a “pre-K reception” this morning, a chance to meet the teachers and become familiar with the expectations that await her classroom of 22 four year olds later this Summer. There was information and songs and story time. Right around bullet #3, I started sniffling and dabbing at the eyeliner starting to run down my cheeks. My teacher husband couldn’t make eye contact with me, maybe because he didn’t know what to do with me, or maybe because he would lose it too.

What in the world?

The future pre-K students got bubbles and pencils and tissues.

It turns out the tissues were for me.

After sitting through the songs and stories, I managed to compose myself. By the time our daughter found her way back to her seat, I had almost made it look as though I had this “sending your kid into the world” thing down.

“Mom?” she asked, concerned.

Oh, man, now I had to explain why Mommy was crying at her big new special school that we have been talking up for a long time now. (Adults can be so confusing!)

I took a breath, ready to explain. Before I could launch into it, she summarized it well:

“I just want my tissues back and to start school now.”

Okay then.

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