It's Really, Really Day

I worry about my girl sometimes.  She gets along okay in school, but she doesn't seem to enjoy it very much.  I figure I'm in trouble, since this is preschool, so the hardest thing she has to do all day is trace a Q with a crayon. She's also turning 5 this year, which means that Mr. A and I have a hard choice to make about whether to send her to Kindergarten in August or to give her one more year to work on her communication and focus.

Comments like this make me think we should wait:

Mama, school is really, really hard.

It made me sad to hear her say that today.  I asked if she was having trouble with her work, but she said, "No."  Was she having problems with the other kids?  "No, Mama, they're fine."

I'm positive that getting up at 6:30 in the morning is a drag, but she get's plenty of sleep, so I don't think that's it.  She and her brother are usually up around that time anyway.

I couldn't think of what else to ask her, so I just started worrying for her future filled with homework that didn't involve cutting and gluing squares.

Then I heard her say:

Mama, my guitar is really, really lost.

And then her brother grabbed her brand new sunglasses off of her face and demolished them faster than I could blink, which brought on:

Mama, my sunglasses are really, really broken!

What a relief!  She'll be fine.  It's just Really, Really Day.