A few months have passed, so I've overcome the trauma of Cj's attempt at preschool ... sort of ... and have been thinking of trying it again.

She so loves going to Sam's school, happily running in, meters ahead of me, then waving her way along until she reaches his classroom. With a shout of, "Brother!" she runs into his arms for a big hug, which he is thankfully happy to bestow.

All this enthusiasm had me thinking that maybe, just maybe, she's ready for another shot at 'the little school'.

By the time my second child ... now a thirty-six-year-old, 6'5", 220-pound man of fine caliber and eyes to die for (or so I've been told repeatedly) ... reached preschool age, I was a single mom with jobs I had to go to, so there was no messing around when it came to getting him enrolled and accustomed to an environment much different than he come to expect.

Now, however, I have the luxury of working from home, and although it would be much easier to concentrate on the stacks of work I always have in front of me without benefit of constant interruptions for attention, juice, puppy, "Grease", cookie, and so on and so forth, I can juggle, so having the kids here with me is not only a pleasure, it's possible.

There's also the realization that Cj is most likely my last baby ... a baby no longer, for sure, but I'm hanging on to the illusion as long as possible ... and I'm in no hurry to start sending her off every day to a bigger world populated by people that aren't us.

But ...

She's beginning to be bored by my company, and we're wondering if it wouldn't be good for her to start mixing with other kids more and having more going on in her little life.

Beginning yesterday, she's going off in the mornings with Sam and Grandma for a dip in the preschool pool. (Not a real pool ... a metaphor.)

Putting on a backpack and heading up the hill with brother looks as though it feels like the coolest thing ever to my little girl, and she goes with a smile on her face and a bounce in her step.

The jaunty, carefree attitude lasts until about right up to the time that she and Grandma, having already deposited Sam at his school, get to the preschool door. Yesterday she made it a good forty minutes before meltdown ... but they had arrived a snack time, and one way to this girl's cooperation is certainly routed through her stomach. Today, arriving too late for munchies, she was completely unimpressed and showed no inclination to do anything but hang on Grandma and call out for me.

We're going to take this slowly. A few minutes at a time in a drop-by sort of way for a while; then, hopefully, longer stays and more interest in the other kids and what they're up to.

Maybe by, what? ... 2020? ... she'll be ready to spend a whole day away from me?

Of course, there's always the big question: WIll I be ready for that?