Wet and Fuzzy.
by Risa Green
The preschool that my children have gone to is awesome. It’s this super-mellow, down-to-earth, developmental haven, which is not an easy thing to find in Los Angeles. I’ve been bringing one or the other of my kids there for seven years now, and in a few short weeks, my son is graduating. For me, it’s the end of an era.
In a lot of ways, I feel like I’ve grown up in my kids’ preschool. I started as a neurotic, first time mom in mommy and me, then watched (in horror) as my daughter transitioned to staying at school without me. And the next year, I started all over again with my son, this time as a seasoned veteran. My daughter soon graduated, and I went on to become one of those harried, crazed preschool moms with an older kid in elementary school, trying to straddle two worlds at once and not doing a very good job in either of them. And now, finally, here I am, about to become a mom of a preschooler no longer, but rather a mom of two school-aged children. How did that happen? When did I get so old? Where has all of the time gone?