I was nervous. Excited. Ready. Maybe not so ready. Ready enough. Yes, that was it.
The schedule for the week was printed out and each little science booklet had its own little staple on the spine, ready for four sets of small hands to read or color or shred, depending on the age of those sweet fingers.
Our all-summer-long play room was once again the school room- the wall calendar with the velcro numbers proudly displaying "September", hanging files empty, waiting patiently for corrected worksheets and illustrated poems.
Will he like "doing school"? Is this the right thing for him? What if he ought to go? I sat down on the floor, absentmindedly picking up the stray toys we'd left out the night before. A little shadow appeared in the doorway. Sweet Paul.
"Come here, buddy."
Four quick steps and he was in my lap, curled up like a sleepy cat in that early morning darkness. I stroked his rough hair. Scratched his back. And I was so, so, very glad. So glad I wouldn't be taking him out in that rain to spend hours of his little 5 year old day in a big building without me. So happy we could take our time easing into that blustery morning. So happy that I've been given the opportunity and the grace to learn alongside my children every day.
One week in and I am so, so grateful.