Did we pass?

Noah went for an interview to enter Montessori preschool yesterday. Well, they didn't CALL it that; they called it a "visit." Okay. Sure.

We arrived promptly at 8:45 as scheduled. As if I could make that happen if I wanted to. I count this as evidence that God loves us and wants my boy to have an education. We walked in. "This must be NOAH!" the director's daughter (who's probably the assistant director, too) says with delight in her voice. She guides us down to a classroom where we're introduced to the teacher and her assistant, or rather I am -- Noah charges full-throttle through the door and directly up to a group of children I estimate to be approximately twice his age. "Hey, kids! What are you doing? Hey, what's that on your shirt? It's Lightning McQueen! Look! I have Lightning McQueen shoes! Can I play with you?" Within moments, with the bond of common adoration for a cartoon racecar established, my son is being instructed by a 5-y-o boy in the creation of a Pink Tower. Which would be Norman Rockwell beautiful, except that the older boy's technique for showing Noah that his tower isn't right is to kick it over with his foot and tell him to do it again. Okay, he needs some work on pedagogy. And yet, there was no objection from Noah, who gamely built the tower over and over again until he got it right.

Stark contrast alert: I am CERTAIN that at day care, this same incident from one of his buddies would have resulted in a lot of wailing and gnashing of teeth. Somehow, though, coming from a bigger older child? Totally acceptable.

I was STUNNED by the sudden maturity of my son, and his complete passion for all things in that room. He could barely stay on one task, but only because the siren song of some other little tray of goodies was nearly overwhelming. But in about 30 minutes, he did about 4 different activities, including counting flags, using clothes pins, putting beads on sticks, and building the Pink Tower. He was just ecstatic the entire time, at one point waving a handful of small flags held like a bouquet, and singing "I counted flags! Hooray for me!" at full voice. This prompted the teacher to sweep in, hug him and practically kiss his cheek, and tell me that he was adorable.

Yes, of course he is! As if I doubted such a thing.

The director's daughter came to retrieve us, and we walked back up the hall to the office where he played with the bead maze while we discussed the rest of the admission process. But soon he'd decided that watching us old ladies talk business was no fun. He worked his way to the office door, stepped outside, and leaned back in. "I'll be right back. I'll be back in ONNNNNE MINNNNUTE..." and then he took off for the classroom.

I lured him back into the office as I gathered up paperwork and asked a final question, and he walked up and down the long hallway outside of the office, peeking in doors and windows. Another child arrived for school a little late, darted into the bathroom there at the entrance, and flushed the industrial strength toilet just as Noah walked by. Noah lept back into the office and onto my lap and hugged me tightly. "Mommy! That SKEEERED me!"

I think that last bit clinched the interview. Who wouldn't want that much cuteness in their next entering class?