rites of passage and tears from mom

The unthinkable has happened.  

No, America has not been attacked.

But Samantha has started preschool.

I wish it could have been prevented, but her excitement was growing by the day.  She wanted to go.  No amount of my pretend-crying could dissuade her.  She especially loved getting a new backpack, which she so proudly wears.  I swear, it makes her look like she's 10 years old.  

Ok, maybe not ten, but certainly not the "just-barely-three" that she actually is.  

She's way too young to be so excited to leave her mama.

But, since it's only three mornings a week...and only for three hours each time...I gave in.  I knew it would be good for her.  I knew she would make friends and her language ability would take off.  I took the plunge and paid the money and got the backpack.  

She started about two weeks after Emma did.  She was so happy the first day of school:

She also made it in time for morning exercises her first day...she's a little hard to see in the picture (because I was hiding inside and didn't want to reveal my location by getting closer) but she's wearing a yellow shirt with pink shorts...there, do you see her now?) 

She didn't particularly enjoy morning exercises the first day, and just kinda stood there with her hands to her side...but now, she and emma pretend to do morning exercises at home and crack themselves up while they do it.  They seriously do.  
All those things I said about making friends and learning language and all that...well, yeah, it's true.  Samantha has her own little friends that love her - "Samantha's here!" they all yell when she arrives.  Samantha has her own little boy that pesters her and gets added to her nighttime prayer list.  Samantha is speaking asianese with courage and accuracy.  It has been good for her. 

And, maybe, it's been good for me too.  It helps me treasure the times when they are home.  It helps me get motivated to plan fun stuff for them to do when we're all together.  It gives me a little time by myself, to play with abby, run errands, and blog.  (Oh, and shower.  I've got to start working showers into a normal part of my day.)

I know my kids won't stay with me forever.  Letting them go, bit by bit, is just a natural part of growing up.  But I feel that my hesitancy to let them go reminds me and forces me to depend more and more on the Lord and trust in His care and watchfulness over them.