My daughter, my shy 5-year-old, is quickly emerging from her cocoon of shyness in the short time she’s been in kindergarten.
Whenever I ask about her school day, she is usually very short in her answers, smiling sheepishly the whole time.
“Who did you eat snack with today?” I’ve asked, trying to get some information about her day.
“No one,” she’ll often say.
But yesterday she said, “Someone whose name starts with the letter ‘N,'” but then she refused to tell me who this mysterious “N” is. Boy? Girl? She was too embarrassed to say. She’s a vault.
So today her little sister and I were cruising through the neighborhood, passing by the school just as the kindergartners were enjoying an outside break in their own play yard, which is segregated from the rest of the school.
I saw her almost instantly. My little butterfly was flitting around happily, holding the hands of little kids I didn’t recognize, running around the school yard with joy. And she looked anything but shy.
I couldn’t hear anything; I could only see, but all of the little kids buzzing around that little school yard seemed just as carefree, reminding me once again why I love kindergarten.
I remember when my oldest had to get glasses right when his own kindergarten year began, a surprise to us that was caught at the school’s vision screening. His classmates made him feel really special for being different. Some of the other moms even told me their sons or daughters were envious of my son’s cool, new accessory- they wanted “super vision” like Will.