The journey begins

Huge development at the Ward castle! After three and a half years of hanging out with his Dad in our boring house, Michael has made "the leap" and begun attending preschool! Can you believe it? I apologize for the lengthy break between blog postings, but the process to get Michael into preschool was lengthy and accomplished only through vows of silence. Well, after two weeks, the powers that be have granted permission to lift that silence.

Allow me to indulge you in The Chronicles of Michael - The Preschool Saga.

Our tale begins two weeks ago on a snowy afternoon. I opened my mailbox to find a plain brown envelope with the words "ACME" stamped across it. I knew by its inconspicuous nature that it must be the Navy SEALS attempting to contact me. You might recall that Michael's first evaluation for the preschool program was conducted by "therapists" that I am convinced were actually Navy SEALS with the ability to disappear at will. They left no trace of their presence, and instructed us to "wait for further instructions."

I received those instructions one week later via the envelope. They informed April and I that Michael was indeed being considered for the developmental preschool program, and to "wait for further instructions." The message then immediately caught fire, disappearing within seconds.

A few days later the phone rang and a mysterious voice inquired about Michael and his program. This voice instructed April, Michael and I to attend a top-secret meeting at the local elementary school at a specific date and time. I couldn't make out the rest, because a surge of white noise overtook the phone. An obvious attempt by the Communists to intercept the call. Or, it could have something to do with the fact that we bought our phone on sale at Target for around 99 cents. Either way, we knew this was important stuff!

The afternoon of our top-secret meeting featured yet another round of Idaho snow flurries. This constant barrage of the white stuff reminds me of an old joke-letter I read once. It features a Californian who moves to Idaho and is extremely excited while witnessing his first snow storm. He remarks how beautiful the white powder is, and what a "winter wonderland" he is enjoying. The letter features several journal entries over the course of a winter, with each entry growing more angry and resentful of the snow. His final entries feature nothing but cursing and berating the "winter wonderland" that just won't go away. That is exactly how I feel when I wake up each morning and see more of that @$%%^$# snow falling from the #&*%$# sky!!

Anyhoo, April and I stuffed Michael into the Zamboni and plowed through 15-foot snowbanks uphill both ways to school. When we arrived we were quickly ushered into a small conference room and told to "wait for further instructions." A few minutes passed before the school principal, nurse, preschool teacher, psychologist, janitor, and lunch lady all entered the room and sat down at the conference table. It is rumored that the head of the CIA, several members of Congress, and former President Bill Clinton were all scheduled to attend the meeting, but could not make it for various reasons. Regardless, it was quite the professional affair for a single kid pondering preschool. But who am I to question the ways of the world?

What followed was a 30-minute session with adults seriously scrutinizing the inner-workings of a three-year-old, while said three-year-old sat a few feet away in blissful ignorance, drawing pretty pictures with markers and rolling around on the floor.

All parties agree to let Michael attend the developmental preschool for a few days, while being observed by "experts." After Michael attends these classes, the super official ones will decide whether little Michael qualifies to attend the program full time.

So here we are! Michael attended his first preschool class yesterday morning. He spent two and a half blissful hours playing with clay, eating snacks, looking at books in the library and hanging out with fellow peers. Today he went on his first field-trip to the bowling alley, where he mastered the art of rolling a bowling ball and twirling around in a circle simultaneously.

After hearing about all of the fun he's been having, I immediately called the Navy SEAL "therapists" and asked if they had a preschool program for bored stay-at-home parents, but that darn white noise overtook the phone again before I got an answer. Leave me alone, commies!

Thus concludes the first chapter of The Chronicles of Michael - The Preschool Saga. Stay tuned for future chapters as the little guy embarks on more adventures while Dad remains bored and blogs all day!

Be good kiddies!!

- Dave