parent conference

I was a little surprised the other day when a sign-up sheet for parent-teacher conferences appeared at Alice’s day care. She’s only 2. But I shrugged and put our names on the list.

When a pre-conference questionnaire came home a few days later, I thought, “OK. This is serious.”

At dinner that night, we discussed Alice’s strengths. “I have to tell you,” I told her, “I feel pretty satisfied with your efforts and accomplishments. You sing songs, you know your colors.”

“You count, you draw pictures,” her dad went on.

Then Alice rolled her eyes up to the ceiling and ran down the list of her daily achievements . I have to tell you. It was extraordinarily adorable.

“See friends. See Miss Jamie. Play slide. Read book. Take a nap. Wash hands. Eat grapes. Eat ‘oodles. Eat doot-doots. Eat pizza …”

(She got a little hung up on food.)

In the end, though, I wrote down so many concerns (not about Alice – just some little program and environment things) that our conference was canceled so that it can be rescheduled for a time when the preschool director can be there. Whoops. I feel kind of bad about that. But I guess that’s what conferences are for?

Every day, toward the end of the afternoon, Alice’s 2-year-olds class is combined with the 3-year-olds class. Often, when I pick her up, the kids are on the carpet, quieting down for story time. When Alice sees me, she yells, “Mommy!”

The older kids giggle.

She isn’t old enough yet to know that it’s funny or to be embarrassed. She’s only happy to see me.

And that makes me a little bit sad. Because they’re only 3, and she’s already 2.


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