Letting Go

Elspeth visited the Kangaroo room in her new school for the first time today.

I have known this transition was going to happen for some time now, so I rarely cry about it anymore. And we like the new school more and more as we get to know the people there, but I do not transition easily.

Anyway, Jeremy, Elspeth and I arrived during group time, and Ella quickly joined the group in brushing her dolls hair and teeth. After putting away her doll, she looked at me and said "I need to go to the Dolphin room." I almost cried, because I knew she was longing for the place where she was as comfortable as home. The place where she knows the routine, the other kids names, and that the teachers love her. She doesn't remember meeting most of the kids in her class, because they have been with her since she started there at 12 weeks of age.

The teachers announced that it was time for the playground, and Ella conceeded that she could stay for playground time. As we made our way out to the playground, she held my hand, partly out of habit, partly for comfort. Then she was gone.

She hit the slide like the experienced playing pro that she is. She climbed up and slid down over and over. Some of the kids started to run just for fun, and Elspeth followed their example. Then the moment came when she stood alone and seemed to stare into the distance. We didn't know if she was uncertain of herself, of what to do, of these new kids, or if she just watched something only she could see. I wanted to run to her, to help her meet the other kids, to hold her tight and let her know she is loved.

Jeremy said quietly "Let her find her way."

I admit, I started to cry and tried not to make eye contact with her so she would not sense my mood. Then suddenly, our daughter fell. The kind of physical comedy fall only a small child can pull off. Where suddenly she finds herself upside down and thinks, "this is cool, I will stay here awhile."

Then we started to see the ring leader that her Dolphin teachers always describe. One young man named Hayden (who I will always adore for this very moment) seemed to notice that she was having fun and he laid on the ground too, laughing with her in the moment. Suddenly the game changed to jumping, and more kids followed them into their private world that adults don't "get."

After Elspeth led the jumping brigade for awhile, she ran back to the slide, climbed to the top and yelled "I'm a big Kangaroo!"

Once again my daughter is proving that she can transition better than I can, that she is more resilient, and that she will find the best in life. But the real message I got this morning is that I will have to let her find her own way. This won't get easier in her life, I suspect with each new situation, the stakes will get higher, and I will have to fight that urge to step in each time.

But, today, I let her find her own way.