The Graduate

Before kids, I didn't understand preschool.   Thought parents who put their two-year-olds in a preschool were, well, shriking their responsibilities.  Even insulted a preschool teacher's job to her face (passively, of course).  Oooh.  Bless my heart.  What can I say?  I was just plain ignorant.

Life has a way of making you eat your words real quick.   Today was the last day of Jeremiah's preschool and his graduation.  Before kids, I'd probably mumble under my breath about how silly such events are, and how they undermine true achievement.

But now that I have my own, I'd be pretty hard-hearted to disparge an event that celebrates children.  Once I joined the ranks of parenthood, my eyes were opened to how extraordinary life really is.  How fragile and fleeting.  I personally know two families who are dealing with childhood cancer.  So getting dressed up and singing sweet songs and making a big deal of another year of life passed?  I'm for it.  Still shots, video, blog updates?   Yes, yes, and yes.

To Old Me:  I've read John Rosemond.  I agree with most of it.  I know the difference between self-esteem and self-confidence.  I know my child should not be the center of my existence: my god.  I know that intrinstic motivation can be diminshed by external rewards.  And I still agree with all of this.  But now, I have a weekend's worth of experience. My attitude's changed.

My child sang "Jesus Loves Me" without tearing off the stage, screaming.  So I am celebrating today.   He is sleeping under my roof tonight, healthy.  And I am grateful.

Deal with that, Old Cynical Me. You have just eaten your words.