This Friday, E graduates from preschool. It's his first official graduation, and I'm afraid I might cry during it. Although he'll attend his cooperative preschool's summer camp, he starts pre-K at "big kid school" in the fall and will no longer be a Caterpillar or a Butterfly. We can't wait for the ceremony, because he's going to sing with the other Butterflies, show off a few yoga poses and get a superlative award from his teachers. Here's hoping it's not something like "Most likely to become a player" or "Most unlikely to move out of Mom & Dad's house." I just hope he actually sings, because I've heard "It's a Beautiful Morning" at least twice a day for weeks now, so if he sits there motionless during the song, I'll be kinda bummed. I'm not show-mom, but c'mon, I've heard the song "rehearsed" way too many times not to get the payoff. Even if he clams up and doesn't sing or pose, I know I'm going to cry. We helped create his preschool. I'm on the board of directors; The husband helped build the stairs to a play loft and paint the space. Our literal blood, sweat and tears are in this school, and soon our son won't be a part of it any more... But we'll always remember the two years he's spent there, even if he doesn't. And, there's always the Schmoopette.