getting in line

Today was Rosie's  - excuse me, she told her teacher she preferred to be called Rosemary - Rosemary's first day of preschool.

As someone who never attended preschool - who never went to any school at all until the age of ten - I have had more than my fair share of apprehension about Rosie going off to school at the tender age of 3 1/2.

My sweet little extrovert, on the other hand, has had less than her share of apprehension.  She's been waiting for this day for weeks.

And this isn't just any preschool.  In a town of 2,000,  you already know almost all the three year olds in the class, who their mamas are, and where they live.  The preschool is run by the Methodist church, and it's down the street from the library and the dance studio.

You can walk there in the starting-to-be-cool autumn mornings with your daughter and her best friend. (And someday, maybe you'll be able to stop at the cafe just down the road for a little treat on the way.)

I stayed dry-eyed, dropping Rosemary off.  We're just talking about ten hours a week.  When I picked her up at 11:30 and asked her about her morning, she said despondently, "They just made us get in line everywhere."

I know she needs to learn to get in line...but I hope my little sweetheart always feels free to march to the beat of her own drummer, too.