The boy officially begins preschool on Monday, but we’ve spent the last two days doing trial periods and acclimatising and mounds of paper-signing (government forms, sigh). He loves it, loves it so much he cried when it was time to leave on Thursday. His teacher is wonderful, and knew just what to do to help him: she offered the opportunity to borrow one of the school’s train cars. When he accepted and chose one they made up a little card together that had a drawing of the train and a sentence outlining the deal: Liam would borrow it overnight, take good care of it, and bring it back the next morning. Liam was so fascinated with the card that his attention was completely redirected and he left all smiles, looking forward to showing HRH the train he’d chosen. This morning he ran in and held the train out to his teacher with a huge grin, saying, “See, here it is, I brought it back for you!” Today he signed a book out of the library and promised to bring it back on Monday. He’s made new friends already, and his teacher has already remarked positively on his language skills (er, yeah, sorry about that), sharing, behaving well, and helping with clean-up. (Possibly because it’s a novelty with new toys and equipment. We’ll see.)

This morning after he’d given the train back to his teacher he practically ran in, heading for the classroom; I had to call him back into the cloakroom to take off his shoes, and then again so he could give me a kiss before I “left” (to go sit in the yard and read for two hours, but he didn’t know that). He loves it. Evidently the timing of a classroom environment is perfect. He’s already made friends who were thrilled to see him again this morning. I’m very proud of him. And very thankful to have found this wonderful place last spring, and to have been offered a spot for the upcoming school year, and that it’s all going so very smoothly for everyone involved.

What with all the sudden rushing about and handling of things that cropped up at the last minute as well as the normal running of the house I’ve managed to get absolutely no work done this week. I’ll make up for it next week, of course, because I’ve just realised that the boy is gone all five work days (there’s a grandma day and a day with the caregiver, too). Incredible.

Anyway, I’m headachy and exhausted, which is why I haven’t been at the computer very often since Monday (or I have been but haven’t been able to do much more than scan news and blogs and try to make sense of Facebook). Also, I have a new reading chair in my office which I’ve been using. I was looking forward to writing longhand in it, but the Clairefontaine notebooks I picked up yesterday don’t have plain lines; they have five slightly lighter lines in each regular ruled line as well as vertical ruled lines, and just looking at the density of lines on the page makes my eyes hurt. (Apparently it’s called French Rule.) So it’s back to the shop to return them this weekend. Yes, I’m an idiot for not opening the notebooks to double-check before I bought them. I was so thrilled to actually find the right size that I grabbed three while chasing after the boy. Lesson learned. No, I don’t know why I’m suddenly taken with the obsession to use Clairefontaine books. I have one A4 size that I bought years ago from a little corner store in NDG and I love how the pen travels across the paper and the size of the rule. I’ve become disenchanted with the little 5×8 hardcover notebooks I’ve used for years; I want something bigger, and I particularly want the brushed vellum paper so the ink from my fountain pens don’t bleed. And my subconscious has decided that this is what it Must Have to work on Orchestrated.

Wow. I have three hours before I have to leave, and nothing concretely scheduled with which to fill them. I may just go lie down and hope the headache goes away, with a bit of help from Advil. My work ethic tells me I should try to bang out some words in the book, but my health monitor is telling me that lying down would be better than trying to force things out at this point. Going to pick up the boy in an exhausted state helps no one.