Ukraine Adoption

The little big girl

When I arrived at Tara's pre-school yesterday to pick her up, I didn't see her pink coat on the hook. Her little suade boots were gone, too. But the children weren't outside. One of the teachers craddling a little baby told me Tara was upstairs visiting the older kids, the 3-5 year olds. The pre-kindergarteners.

We have been preparing Tara for her move upstairs when she turns 3 in a few weeks, but I'm not sure if I prepared myself yet. We want them to grow, to learn more, to explore, to be independent. We keep telling them that they are big so they will try to do things for themselves. I have argued with Tara when she is so stubborn and determined to do something herself. I say, "Then what job will your mommy have if you get to do everything?" She thinks that's funny. She doesn't know that I'm only partly joking.

So I climbed the flight of stairs and walked down a long hallway lined with cubbies and decorated with splashes of artwork made by little hands. I could hear children singing the B-I-N-G-0 song. I peeked into the room and saw them sitting in a circle, Tara next to a teacher I hardly know yet, smiling and trying to learn the words. She saw me and smiled, hesitated to get up, and finished the song before she walked over to me. Where was that "MOMMY!" squeal that I got used to in the toddler room? I hugged her and scooped her up. She looked over her shoulder and shouted, "Bye guys!"

I think she's ready for the move up. But am I?