Holymosesmotherofgod. First day of pre-school. The preparation for it like getting into a Pac-10 college or interviewing for a kickass job. The nerves (mine of course) and the waiting. It started with a bustling pre-school fair. Full of talking heads, flyers, Annie’s fruit packets and sales pitches. They told me of co-op schools, ones with organic gardens, cultural diversity and non-violent communication.

And what I learned I wanted was normalcy. Get your hands dirty, real-life hard knocks and the nearby loving arms of a teacher. And most of all creative play. Where his imagination can run wild with no limits.

For this is a boy that opens every cupboard door, studies every facial tic, sings soulfully with eyes closed, leaps into every puddle as if it’s the last, and runs like the wind. There’s no holding him back.

He’s on his way.

The three nights leading up to this first day, I cried in my sleep, dreamt I was an FBI agent staking out teachers. I interviewed other kids with inkblot diagrams, set verbal booby traps and felt every emotion that Milo could possibly feel course thru my veins.

So on this real first day, we were timid and thrilled. He tugged on my dress, then lifted it like a cotton tent and hid between my knees. Everyone learned my name and underwear color at once. To avoid more embarrassment, I sat on the floor holding my dress to the ground…so one-by-one the kids could insert tiny rubber snakes in my hair. Their slithering bodies inevitably getting stuck in my hair-sprayed ‘work’ curls. And of course Milo found this to be incredibly hilarious. YEAH, that’s my mom ‘Medusa’! The crazy, hormonal exhibitionist!

But my little buddy’s transformation this last week-and-a-half has been remarkable. For starters, he told me we have a lion in our home that sleeps, eats and hides. Shhhh! We can only search for him on all fours. Also, everything must be counted. He sees “2 garbage trucks” on the road, “3 strahbeyees” on his plate, and “2 dog poops” on the ground. (The fascination with poop is endless.) After a day at school, he names EVERYTHING he sees: kitty, leaf, spiderweb, trash, man, street, bird, plane, icecream, bug, bag, window, wheel, flower, balloon, squirrel, bike, helmet…rapid-fire, until my own brain is bursting in images and color.

We build block towers “to the sky” and “Milo is hungry,” “Milo gets owee,” “Milo goes fastest,” on his scooter, and “Milo wash hands myself.” Dad says he hopes he never stops talking in 3rd person. Like George Costanza.

But I’ll leave you Milo with this…

No matter how independent you strive to be, where your active mind flies and how fast your little Quicksilver feet may carry you…always know there are more enchanted worlds to explore…

And despite what scary, unfamiliar things are around the bend, your mom is always here to pick you up and hug you real tight…

With open arms…

Medusa