Dear Pre-K Teacher,

Dear Pre-K Teacher,

I've only met you once and really know nothing about you, yet here I stand, delivering my just-recently-turned-4 baby to you for an entire school day. That's 7:40 until 2:30. That's a long time. That's breakfast, lunch, and naptime. That's almost 7 hours of his day, and I'm letting you have it.

I know you are a good teacher, a loving and kind teacher. I checked you out. I also know you are busy, that you have 21 other 4 year-olds with specific needs and distinct little personalities. I know you know what you are doing and that you've done it all a hundred times. I know you have great ideas and cool stories and fun things planned for the whole year.

Again, I know you are busy, but can you do me a favor?

When Tate smiles, will you make sure you smile right back at him?

When he laughs and shows his pretty little baby teeth smile, will you laugh with him?

Will you listen to him tell you all about fire trucks and firefighters and ladder trucks and pumper trucks?

Will you ignore the pants he's wearing with the hole in the leg, because they're his favorites and we all know we need as many favorites as possible on the first few days of school.

Will you listen to him tell you how far he can swim and then imagine that sweet little boy in a shark swimsuit as he jumps into the pool full force, legs kicked up behind him and big blue goggles protecting those baby blues?

When he has a rough morning because he's tired, not used to the routine, missing his dad or brothers, will you hug him for a minute or two? It's hard to go from having hugs all day to none at all. Even big kids (and adults) need hug sometimes.

Will you teach him to love school, to anticipate the ending to each story, to marvel at numbers and letters? Will you remind him to be kind to everyone and to follow the rules and raise his hand?

Will you promise me he won't get lost in the crowd? That he won't just become a number or a name on the tag of his backpack? That his distinct little personality will not only be recognized but appreciated. That when you look at him every morning you'll see the fire fighter wannabe, the super star swimmer, the boy who wears a whistle around his neck and cleats on his feet and walks in his Daddy's footsteps as he coaches, patting players on the head just like Daddy does.

Will you see him as the gift from God that he is, even when his boy-ness is almost too much to bear? Will you see him as the blessing he is to us and now to you, even on his uncooperative days, of which I'm sure there will be many? But most importantly, will you love him like I love him, on those days when you are the next best thing to Me?

Sincerely,

Tate's Mom