These past few mornings, getting ready for school went more quickly because there was one less lunch to make and one less bag to pack. And on Tuesday the miracle happened: Coco was the first in his class. And he loved it. And wants to continue the trend.
So this morning we left in good time and he kept asking if we were early. When I said Yes, he seemed upset. And then he asked what "early" means.
And I'm not writing this in order for you to commiserate about the difficulty of explaining temporal concepts.
No, I'm writing this to feel sorry for my son, who apparently has no event in his past on which to affix the label "Early."
Or maybe he's just been living in denial because he slipped out of his mommy's belly three and a half weeks before his due date.