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Kindergarten is Scary

Last week I took Laylee to pick up her registration packet for kindergarten. We arrived at the elementary school right as they were getting out for the afternoon and fought our way through the hordes of young people heading for their buses.

The moment I set foot on the school sidewalk my stomach started doing flips and flops, my hand clenched tight around Magoo's. I tried to force myself to smile. It is a big kid school and I am nowhere near ready to send Laylee off into the land of big kids.

Although I'm sure there are plenty of sweet fifth graders in that group, the ones I saw all looked like a bunch of thugs. Many of them were practically as tall as I am but with more attitude. It was all I could do not to throw my body across Laylee and say, "Don't come near her. She's still a BABY!"

And the school just seemed so large, like it would swallow her up whole. The thought of dropping her off every day and letting her walk away from me to spend her time with those strangers is terrifying. I'm so not ready for this.

She seemed fine with all of it, commenting on the fun crafts that lined the walls and giving the outdoor playground a nod of approval. She was definitely more excited than terrified. I wanted to shake her and say, "Isn't it scary? Aren't you SKEERED? They're so much bigger than you. They don't love you like your mommy loves you. You will miss me SO MUCH when you're at school every day. You will cry and cry and cry. But it's okay. You don't have to go to school ever if you don't want to. Mommy will keep you home and play Candyland with you every day until you turn 18 at which time you can take the GED and go straight to college."

Dan agreed that I made a good choice not purposely scaring her away from public education for life. And I'm sure it will be fine. Um. Yeah. I'm sure I'll survive. Gulp.