I went to a parent co-operative preschool from the ages of 2 to 4 and have nothing but fond memories of my time there. So naturally I couldn’t wait for Charlotte to go to the magical land of glitter play-doh, splatter painting, and most importantly, a place I’m not in charge of cleaning.

So many things were running through my head as I held hands with my little girl and walked her through those seemingly metaphorical rainbow gates. We already have everything we could ever dream of, but here is my pretty please list for preschool:

Pretty please don’t let my kid be that kid: the follower, the smelly, or the screamer.

Pretty please don’t let me be that parent. I promise not to become the PTA president (at least not this year). And please grant me the ability to do all my worrying and crying in the privacy of my own car.

Pretty please don’t let me slip further than a 5 on the “Anal-Retentive Scale of Worry”. I pray preschool doesn’t keep me up at night hallucinating about giant colonies of head lice and rogue strains of bacterial meningitis.

Pretty please don’t pick up any new swear words, bite marks or bad behavior.

Now go forth and shine as bright as the twinkle little stars we must incessantly sing about.