Graduation

My baby's growing up.

One of my first blog posts last fall was about Doug's first day of school. Here he is on his first day:

Now, nine months later, he "graduated" from pre-school today.

We've filled our last treat bucket.

He's gone on his last field trip to the fire station (maybe his last field trip ever, if Alpine School District keeps up their current policy.)

No more bringing toys to school for show-n-tell.

This was a little bit hard for me-- but what amazed me was how hard it was for Doug. Not the face of a happy boy.

He did well through the program, but when the teacher put on a video with pictures of them through the year, he scrambled up on my lap with tears in his eyes. I thought maybe someone had been mean to him or something and I asked him if he was crying. He said, "Not yet, but I'm about to." Then the tears spilled over, he choked down a sob and buried his head in my shoulder.

"What's wrong, buddy?"

"I'm (sob) going (sob) to miss (sob) preschool. (Sob, sob, sob.)"

Poor little guy. He can be such a little piker, but when it comes down to it, he, like his daddy and his brother, has a big, soft heart.

Here he is with his teacher Helene. He went and gave her a big hug and he started crying again, which got her choked up too. I have to say-- any teacher who can get my son's affection like that is gifted-- thank you, my friend.

I think I might cry too, now-- but it's mostly because Doug's graduation from preschool means the end to my ALONE time every Tuesday and Thursday morning for the next few months. If that's not sad, I don't know what is. . .