You go to Kindergarten tomorrow morning. Technically, this morning. Because I'm not sleeping tonight. At least not any time soon.
I know that you're a great kid. You're smart, good hearted and funny. You're a leader and don't have any qualms about speaking up when you see someone else your size picking on a smaller kid. I love that about you.
Your father and I have met your teacher twice, briefly. I've done my best to find out information about Mrs. Haasen and her cohort, uh, teacher's helper, Mrs. Borden. Talked to other mommies, daddies, the school, a few substitute teachers who know them. I may or may not have also asked the cop across the street to check them out...
But I don't know these ladies and I'm worried that they don't know you yet. I'm concerned over the fact that I know almost nothing about these women to whom I am entrusting my life's most important and valuable work. I'm stressing about how delicately they will handle your body, your mind and your spirit. Your spirit most of all.
I'm sending you to Kindergarten in the morning despite my fears.
Because you seem to have none. I know that you will be successful. I know that you will have a wonderful time and enjoy this adventure. I know that you are going to learn more and see more than I could provide here at the house. I am so excited and terrified for you.
But I'm still not ready.
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