Two boys. Crazy, and wild, and over the top- side-way smiles – knock knock jokes – fiends for stickers and Nano bugs and Legos and screen-time – lovers of snacks, sneakers of chocolate, delivers of hugs and snuggles- one with dimples- one who likes to run- sensitive and smart – story tellers- eyebrow raisers- comedians at five and three- believers in magic and wonder. Two boys.
A day-care provider for five years, who tended them, loved them, taught them their letters and colors, fed them, did not ban them from her day care when they bit other children, did not have a heart attack when they insisted on climbing higher, who tended me- didn’t give me a thing to worry about, because I knew my children, my babies, my infants were safe and loved.
A preschool teacher who has had both my sons now- who helped one to stop hitting his classmates, who is helping one to appreciate the potty – a teacher who has structure and love, and a play loft – she who created a preschool for Hadley, who is just about to retire, who has been the teacher to even my senior students who are about to graduate – she who has taught my sons songs, and numbers, and to to cut paper, and write their names, she who transcribes stories and helps them to share.