Preschool? Mmm hmm!

Yesterday was the boys' first day of school.  Andy, as a four year old, is now entering his third year of preschool, which begs the question of, honestly, how many ding dong years of preschool do we actually need before REAL school?  I mean, this is longer than Chris attended college!  Well, the answer was staring me in the face as I sent Alex off to his first day of two year old preschool.  Three years of preschool.  They start at age two and they just go forever, from preschool to kindergarten to grade school and then eventually the exact right two year program at the local college.  Which brings me back to my original point.  X-ray technician? Two years.  Preschool?  THREE years.

Sure, we could just skip two year old preschool (and probably three year old preschool, let's be honest), but then where would we be?  As a family, we'd be at least $140 richer per month, sure. We could probably trade paying for preschool into paying for cable television which requires no commute AND allows the children to wear open toe sandals. But preschool, all THREE ridiculous years of it, does offer so much.  For instance:

Socialization skills.

Basic counting and alphabet skills.

Finger painting in a building that has smocks.

An adult who teaches all the verses to "The Wheels on The Bus" and doesn't improvise with that made up ones about the alcoholics on the bus going barf, barf, barf.

Anyway, I was okay dropping both of the kids off at school yesterday, even my baby Alex.  He ran right into his classroom and barely glanced back at me as I called out good-bye.  Alex has been longingly watching Andy get shuttled into preschool and story time and park district classes for the last two years. He's been waiting for his turn, and here it was.

I would have loved to be a fly on the wall in either class, but especially Alex's.  I've never dropped this kid off anywhere, and his actual listening skills are pretty terrible.  So how did Alex's first actual day go, you might ask?  I don't know.  When the teacher opened the door at the end of class, Alex flew out and I didn't even make eye contact with the teacher, much less talk to her.  I get the distinct impression she's avoiding me.

*

So the boys are in preschool and I'm in the thick of things at work, right in week three or four or whatever week this is of my part time job.  It's going well so far, and the two nights a week plus one weekend day are admittedly ideal and rather easy.  Almost enjoyable.  It's good for all of us that Chris gets that long weekend day with just him and the boys.  I've always been a huge proponent for male bonding.  We have a baby-sitter for during the week as there's about an hour between when I have to leave and when Chris gets home.  It seems to be working out well except for the fact that this young girl is incredibly shy and doesn't actually speak to me or Chris.  She has not said a word to either of us except for an agreeable "Mmm hmm."

"How were the kids?"

"Mmm hmm."

"Okay.... So I owe you eight dollars?"

"Mmm hmm."

"Okay.... So, see you Monday?"

"Mmm hmm."

We've decided that next week, we're both going to ask only open-ended questions.

I myself was a very shy twelve year old, and I'm sure that Chris and I are mildly terrifying to this young girl, especially Chris with his unruly goatee and me with my strict rules such as "Don't bother changing Alex's diaper if he poops; he can just sit in it and wait for his father."  The boys are very happy with her, though, and I'm sure she's doing a great job and at least a little more talking when we're not around, and that's all that matters to me.  She'll come out of her shell one day.  Perhaps, like myself, when she finally enters college and discovers mixed drinks.