Today I took you to your first day of part-time preschool.
You were nervous before we went. You asked me if the teacher would get mad at you if you couldn't do some of the same things the other children there could. You asked me what would happen if you didn't make any friends.
The teacher will be nice, I said. She'll understand that you're young, and you're still learning things. No one will care that you can't do some things that most of the other kids in your class can do, because there are so many other things you can do better than most kids your age can. Everyone has different strengths. You're good at some things and not so good at others, just like everyone else.
And of course you'll make friends.
The truth you'll know one day, all too soon, is that I didn't know these things— that your teacher would be understanding when you had problems, that the children in school would not tease you for being different, that you would make new friends— for sure. My certainty was a lie. I'm sorry.
But my hope was true.
When we got to your classroom, you ran right in, without even hugging me goodbye.
And when you came home, you came bursting with stories of a kind, understanding teacher, and new friends.
Good job, Big Boy.
Happy first day of school.