A new fish in the sea

Evan had his first day of camp yesterday.

I feel silly even typing those words. Yes, I know he's just 16 months old, and no, I haven't completely taken leave of my senses. But the temple where Julia attends preschool and camp also offers a series of toddler programs, and I'm there anyway dropping Julia off every morning, so Evan got enrolled as well. His class is really just an hour and a half long Mommy & Me program that mimics a longer day preschool program... nothing all that remarkable, but a good way to fill a little time now that his sister's gone at camp a good 14 hours a week.

Julia took the same class when she was just a little older than Evan is now. I remember how "ready" she seemed for school, how age appropriate this program seemed for her at this age, with the playdough and the art projects and the group interaction. Not so my baby boy. I don't know if it's his birth order or his gender or my increased perspective on what a preschooler really looks like (probably all 3), but as we walked into the classroom yesterday, I wondered what the hell we were doing there. "Convenient or not, this is just going to go completely over his head," I thought. "He's too young for this kind of stuff."

An hour an a half later, Evan had painted a paper fish red and yellow, assembled several puzzles (the same ones that he just bangs the pieces together from at home...) and found all of the books about trains on the shelves. He sang the clean up song along with his teachers ("een uh! een uh!") and participated fully in circle time. He sat nicely at a little table for snack time and threw away his napkin in the trash can when he was done. He explored the playground equipment and climbed and slid and spent a full 20 minutes standing in a wading pool dumping water on his head and giggling. As we changed into dry clothes at the end, he spotted his teacher coming his way with a big wand and sat straight up, exclaiming "oooh... bubbles!" And when we left, he waved and said "bye bye" to everyone.

Julia's going on her 3rd year of programs at the temple, and she's never once said goodbye to a single teacher when she leaves. She's probably never chimed in on the clean up song either. In fact, I daresay Evan may just have participated in class more fully yesterday that his sister ever has. Different kids, different personalities. Julia still belongs in preschool and gets far more out of it than Evan will for another year or so. But apparently, he's ready to get a little something out of it, too. Once again, I've underestimated my little boy and what he's capable of.

I'm going to give that red and yellow fish a place of honor on my refrigerator among all of Julia's art work. Hopefully, it will continue to remind me that even though he'll always be my baby, Evan just isn't a baby any more. How many more times do you think he's going to have to hit me over the head with this fact before I fully get the message?