cat named pig

You can pack a healthy lunch and the required two snacks. You can fill the water bottle with ice-cold water. You can sit at the kitchen table after bedtime, writing her name on the tags of swimsuits, towels, hoodies, and rain gear with a fine-tip permanent marker. You can pack everything carefully into the adorable Paris-themed backpack she got for her birthday, zipping it closed and tucking the bus form into an outside pocket where it will be handy when needed.

You can remain patient and supportive while a dramatic shoe crisis threatens to make everyone late (”But they’re too LOOSE! Make them TIGHTER! Forget it, I’m NOT GOING!”), finally suggesting two pairs of socks to make the shoes feel tight enough. (Plenty of other 80’s trends are coming back now — why not that one?)

You can zip through every yellow light as you rush to get to the bus stop well before the bus pulls up.

At the bus stop, you can smile encouragingly as she looks at you before approaching another little girl: “Do you want to be my friend?”

You can make small talk with the other parents and grandparents of waiting kids. You can hug her tightly and give her a kiss as the bus pulls up, and again right before she gets on it.

But when she’s on the bus, standing uncertainly in the middle of the aisle before finally ending up in a seat by herself, you can’t do anything but bite your lip and try not to cry as you watch the bus pull away.

And as you drive home with the two-year-old cheerfully yammering in the back seat, you can’t do anything but hope that she makes friends, that she has fun, and that she isn’t sitting alone when the bus pulls up to drop her off this afternoon.

…..

If the first day of camp is this hard, how will I survive sending her to kindergarten in a few weeks?