After watching his sister and neighborhood friends go off to the magical land of School for the last three weeks, Little A finally got to climb the hill to the 1880-era house where he'll be attending preschool FOUR days a week. BB and I walked him up, snapping photos and chatting it up trying to keep it all positive lest he remember that for the last 10 weeks of preschool in the spring we practically had to drag him kicking and screaming up that damn hill and walk away from a either a wailing and flailing child or a pitifully tearful child. Either way, it pretty much sucked. I left either feeling like a complete loser for forcing my child to endure 4 hours without me (maybe a little ego talking there) or like I was being smothered and must RUN, RUN AWAY, QUICK! BEFORE ALL THE LIFE IS SQUEEZED OUT OF ME.

But there was to be none of that this week. He scampered up the hill, walked into the little house like he owned the place, set up business in his cubby and started marking his territory in the big classroom. I tried not to knock anyone over as I skipped gleefully back down the hill giddy with the knowledge that I had a whole 3 1/2 hours to MYSELF.

And what did I do? I SHOPPED, of course! Having fun shopping with children is an oxymoron and I'd had no desire to attempt it unless there was absolutely no way to avoid it. It's amazing how much I can get done in 3 hours when I don't have to keep begging certain someones to please put their seatbelts on already. Or get out of the car for pete's sake. The best was when I realized I hadn't had to get down on my hands and knees even once to search for a Star Wars or Superman or Spiderman action figure.

When I picked up Little A, I had to drag him off the playground and back down the hill. He didn't want the day to end. I'll take that.

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