The lovely Juli (who blogs about her life right over here at Justjuli) wants an update on Ellie's now two-month-old preschool career.
Well, Ellie loves preschool. She loves her teacher, loves several of her (ahem) male classmates, loves singing "The Milkshake Song" in the hallway before snacktime, loves snacktime, loves playing on the playground. When I come to pick her up every day, eagerly unlatching the iron gate and searching her out among the fifteen bright little coats, she sees me and brightly says, "Oh, hi, Maaaaam. I'm not ready yet,OK?" and continues digging or running or climbing the wrong way up the slide. She is happy as the proverbial pig in mud (or sand or sidewalk chalk or pea gravel.)
But more than anything, this is what Ellie loves best about preschool:
They. Have. Paint. And they clip the paper to the walls and wrap you in a smock and let you go to town with the paint and go to town she does. Nearly every school day there are one or two of these tempera masterpieces in Ellie's folder, and I have been taping them up in our entryway and giving them away to grandparents left and right. The paintings are intense and vibrant and messy, much like the artist herself, and they cheer me up every day.
So, Juli, if nothing else, preschool has been an enormous success because, for four hours every week, Ellie goes somewhere that is not my dining room table and paints (the wall, her hands, her arms, her face) and I, for once, don't have to clean it up. Worth every tuition penny.