I drove Little G to school today like I do every day. Tires splashing through rain. Late autumn darkness shadowing the roads.
We spoke to Little G at dinner on Saturday. He is so young, but he listens. He hears. He understands.
We let him know that at school he might hear other kids talking about some things that sound scary. He told us an ornament was falling off the tree. We assured him that he is safe. He picked his nose. We encourage him to come to us or his teachers if he had any questions. He asked us if he could be all done so he could race.
I drove Little G to school today like I do every day. Radio tuned to Christmas music. A beloved toy for entertainment.
I reminded him that there might be a special visitor in his classroom like there was on Friday. The classroom parents have been volunteering to come in and share holiday traditions. He asked me if it would be a parent and if they would say something scary.
He listens. He hears. He understands.
I think the parent will share something fun, Little G. But if you hear something scary today, don't forget that you are safe and you can ask your teachers any questions you have. He tells me if he hears something scary, then he will turn and walk away from them. Walk away, Little G.
I drove Little G to school today like I do every day. The rolling drop off is barren. I'm the only one in line.
The head of staff is there to open the door and greet us. The daily greeters are gathered together behind him waiting for more children. They are teachers. Allies. They are the men and women I have seen every day at drop off since school began. I look at them and see. They are the men and women who would lay down their lives to protect my child.
The rain is pelting and dripping over the car. Bright yellow boots slide out merrily. He takes the hand of a guardian, a trusted guide. Have a good day, Little G. I love you. Bye mommy! He waves and I pull away.