And my brain doesn't really move that fast.
I have all these posts lined up in my brain like a little desktop file organizer. And yet, here we are at the end of the summer with only a post or two a week. And one was just suggesting a movie.
I haven't posted about:
how I'm a relatively crappy friend sometimes leaving my two close friends Greg and Tamara (hi T, I'm still so sorry!) in the lurch in Orangeville with no directions to our cottage.
how Emily barfed two nights ago and why you'd care
how Emily starts school this week
Let's start there.
Today at 11:40 am we go for our "intake interview" with Emily's teacher. We met her at the Open House in the spring and she is, by first impression and reports from other parents, amazing. Her name will hereby be Mrs. B. She is one of those career Kindergarten teachers. She is about 50 I'd guess, has an enthusiastic, caring and generous approach to kids and parents (we arrived late to the Open House and she gave us a 20 minute tour of the classrooms and school on her own time) and yet you can tell (and I've heard) that she has high expectations of the kids and brings down the law when necessary. Just what Emily needs.
So, we meet her again in about an hour. She'll show Emily the class again, show her her cubby hole and we'll talk about Emily.
Emily is just a little excited. Like excited enough to ask me at 8:00 if it was time to go yet.
On Thursday she'll go back again for one "integrated start" day. This means that half the class goes on that day when she does (about 10 students). It will be a get to know you day and get to the know the routine day. She'll be able to take the bus that day.
The bus. We're eligible because we live too far away for a 4-year old to walk. She says she wants to ride it and it would be way easier for me since she goes to school right when Hope should be getting to bed in the afternoon but something about putting her on a school bus has me COMPLETELY FREAKING OUT. She's four. Four!
I plan to put her on the bus and then follow it with the car for at least a few days to make sure she isn't crying when she climbs off the bus.
I'm the stalker mummy.