Preschool Pick-up

It's such a busy time of year, preparing for Christmas, preparing for a vacation, I'm glad my over-worked, over-organized, over-done brain is still able to appreciate a small joy when it sees one.  There are moments in life that seem so poignant, yet so insignificant, they make you grateful you were able to notice them at all.  For instance, preschool pick-up.  Most days, unless the weather is cruddy, the kids are waiting for their parents outside the school doors, having just come off the playground around back.  When you drive up you see them sitting side-by-side on a flower box made of railroad ties, gabbing away with their friends.  If you're early you get to see what I saw today. 

Parked at the school door, I watched as the teacher rounded the corner followed in quick succession by her pupils; running and stumbling, knocking into each other, spinning like tops and falling down, holding hands, hopping and skipping, and generally looking like a troupe of clowns spilling out of a tiny car.  I could almost hear the circus music accompanying their entrance.  I giggled to myself, watching all of them so happy to be playing with their friends, still young enough to consider everyone their friend and be mostly oblivious to the concept of bullying and exclusion.  I smiled to see all of them so relieved that mom or dad or grandma was there to pick them up, not rolling their eyes or hiding in an oversized sweatshirt, dragging their feet to the car. 

It's not the first time, and I'm sure it won't be the last, that I find myself thinking, wishing, my kids could keep the joy and peace they feel today in their lives forever.  I'll do my best to help you always find it, girls, I promise.