My daughter came into my bedroom this morning. I don’t know the exact time, but definitely before 5:30. Normally if she came into my room at that time I would tell her to go back to her room. To go to bed or play quietly. But it was clear something was wrong.
It wasn’t a nightmare. Nightmares are easy. Not for her, but for me. “It’s not real,” I can say. “It was just a dream.” It doesn’t totally fix it, but it’s at least a thing to say that is true.
No, it was not a nightmare. This morning my daughter was crying because she doesn’t want kindergarten to end.
She has certainly come along way from crying because she didn’t want to go to kindergarten. From when she thought it was a scary place.
She doesn’t want to leave her teacher. To be honest, I don’t want her to either. He is a magical, creative, caring person who has an imaginary pirate living in his classroom. I cannot tell her her next teacher will be just as fun, just as nice. Sadly, I know he is the sort of teacher who only comes along a few times in an academic life. I am grateful that both of my kids got to experience his class. I will miss him too.
My girl is also worried that she will be in a different class than her friends, and she will have to wait until recess to see them. Or worse that, like her best friend from preschool who is in another school now, she will only see them on their birthday. (I really have to get better about arranging playdates.)
She is also worried about summer camp. She doesn’t know what camp is like. She worries they will make her play sports she doesn’t know how to play or that she is not good at.
She is worried about a lot of things.
I said what I could to comfort her. When she was calm I sent her to her room to play quietly. I listened to her sing to herself (She makes up her own songs.) until it was time to get up.
Kindergarten Sing is tomorrow. I will see my girl standing on stage with her classmates led in by her wonderful teacher. I am going to cry so much.
I’ve already started.
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