Last Day...

of preschool today. Tomorrow is the family picnic to help us kick off summer. It is the first of many last days here.

Chayse has flourished in preschool. She has loved every single day. The creative structure of Bellwood has been fabulous for nurturing her love of learning. She is ready for kindergarten in the fall. Very ready. She has been waiting to be five and go to school with the rest of the gang for years...literally.

Though it is bittersweet to know that this is once again my last season of preschool, I am ready too.

Primarily...because every day I join the drop off and pick up line which snakes around the little school. It is a one way street. There is no exiting once in line. I struggle often with this process, as teachers are always present to help your child from the vehicle and escort them safely inside. This is plan is to keep the line moving. They ask that you politely and promptly move forward so the next person in line may take their turn dropping his/her child off at school. There is a parking lot below for the times it will take longer or you need to linger.

One day last winter, the school nurse called me on my cell phone as I was waiting my turn (I was at least six cars back). She asked me if I could please bring a breathing treatment for my daughter as quickly as possible. Immediately, I began to worry because she had just left the house completely symptoms free, and it is highly unusual for her to struggle without any symptoms present. As I explained current location, I assured her I would be there there in a few minutes.

Then...I watched mothers get out of the vehicle and walk their children to the door and say good-bye before returning to the car...but before actually entering the car would engage in conversation with another mother. As I breathed my deep Lamaze breathing I was completely annoyed with their blatant disregard for the rest of us waiting patiently. I realize they had no way of knowing that my oldest daughter was in distress and I needed to go...quickly. They could, however, see the long line of cars rapidly growing behind them, though. It was the longest 12 minutes of my life (on a good day it would have only taken a couple).

I will not miss my final run through that line...at all. Admittedly, I like proficiency and people to follow the guidelines. I have quietly managed to endure this line four days a week for the entire school year without saying a word...until now.

So forgive me as I whoop through my tears today as my little girl clamors into the backseat for the last time, chattering about the events of her morning.