The playhouse has a chimney, and two butterflies painted on the roof

Beth and I made our first preschool visit today (and have two more lined up this week, after which I think I'm calling it quits). The school is terrific — orderly cubbies with the kids' pictures on them, lots of activity tables, slightly granola-ish looking helpful parent volunteers and cheerful, cooperative children. A playhouse with a chimney! Homemade pink play dough with sparkles in it! Kids (in a preschool version of a Groundhog Day hangover) experimenting with flashlights and boxes to cast shadows on the floor! I loved it. Beth didn't want to go home.

But.

Remember my post last week when I worried about being a hovering, pushy and over-involved parent? When I thought that my concerns about my kid's academic career might be a bit over-the-top (not to mention premature)? These parents make me look like a real piker. Compared to them, I'm a laissez-faire, let-my-kid-play-in-the-street kind of mom.

Oh, and Beth is wait-listed (wait-listed, mind you!) at this preschool. We didn't jump on the ball fast enough. 'Sokay, one of the other schools I'm visiting this week definitely still has openings. But still!

Okay, on to other, less peevish thoughts. Sarah's figured out that she can climb onto one of the chairs in the living room, and she is So. Proud. Of. Herself. She's also taking actual steps between her parents (and sometimes Beth), from chair to couch, grinning the whole time. Her balance has gotten noticeably better in the past three days. Yikes! She walks really well holding onto my finger. She stands up unassisted and stays there for a few moments before plopping back down on her (by now) rather well-cushioned tuckus.

Tonight I was lying on the floor, trying to entice her to come over and climb on my back so I could give her a horsey ride. Nope, nothing doing. She came over, put one hand on my shoulder, then leaned down so her face was right next to mine and said, "Haaaah!"

"Hi, Sarah!"

"Haaaah!" Big smile.

"Hi!"

"Haaaah!"

Delicious child.