Love Like This

4 | Mr. Larson

It's finally Friday. For whatever reason, Friday morning drop-offs are always more hectic than the rest of the week. Except for the occasional Monday morning.

Fridays... It's like we're all too worn out to keep it together another moment longer.

Kids come with their pigtails uneven, backpacks unzipped, shoelaces untied. Parents have that flushed look to their faces - the kind that says they fought the entire morning to get the kid here at all and they don't want to hear a single thing about it, either.

But early school year Fridays are especially hectic in the preschool wing. The kids aren't in the routine yet of long weeks at school and it shows. Tantrums are commonplace, tears and snot and shouting fill the wing. Their parents aren't in the routine of battling it out every morning, either. The first day jitters have worn into thoughts of "Thank God, she's Miss Davis's problem now."

But not with Dr. Reynolds. Of course not. It's officially the second full week of school (the third week if you count the first, which is only a half-week, beginning on a Wednesday,) but Dr. Reynolds jitters are still more first day level.

He's worrying now about Harper's nap time behavior. I let him know that no, she's not really napping yet, but she does lie down quietly while I read to her. That's caused quite the concern for him.

"This can happen." I explain calmly. "She could settle eventually. If she doesn't, it's all right that she just takes some quiet time. She's not at all disruptive."

"Well. You're sure you don't mind reading to her?" He scratches at his jaw, eyeing me over a pair of glasses I've never seen him wear before.

"I'm her teacher." I reply simply, a soft smile fixed on my face. "I love to read to her."

Could I use the time to lesson plan, to prepare craft activities, to update my billboard, to type up my newsletter? Sure. But it'll get done at home later, if not during nap time.

I need something to fill my free time now, anyways.

Dr. Reynolds warms at that response, practically beaming down at me. "You know, Harper really seems to be taking to you, Miss Davis."

I shift foot to foot, uncomfortable under his gaze, the wire-rimmed lenses not enough to lessen the intensity of his stare.

"Thank you," I murmur. I watch the car line getting shorter and shorter, can practically hear the clock ticking down to Morning Circle. Principal Rivers, from his position waving to the parents as they walk-through the pre-school entrance, nods at me, tapping his wrist. Almost time for him to give morning announcements. I look back to the doctor. "She's a great girl."

"But I'm wondering if it's more than that." He says and immediately my cheeks flush.

Please don't. I scan frantically for Miss White, for a kiddo in distress, another parent who needs assistance. There's no one. Even Principal Rivers is wandering to the front entrance, to his office to welcome us all to Friday over the intercom.