I was driving with the Es yesterday and “Kindergarten” came up during one of our conversations in the car:
Me: There’s a good possibility that you may go to N’s school…
Her: Yay! I love N! (watching her hide her face and giggling as I peaked through the rear-view mirror searching for a reaction.)
Me: We are not absolutely sure, but maybe… (trying to keep things mentally flexible for her and myself).
Her: Is P still there? (P is N’s brother)
Me: No, P is older and he’s moved on to a new school, Middle School. And so will N at the end of the next school year. And, that will happen to you… So, you’ll have 6 years in this school, and then 3 years in Middle School and then there’s High School, and that’s 4 years … and then, you can go to University… (the silence and my non-interrupted speech made me think that I was speaking to myself - which I was at some point - but she was still listening…) If you want.
Me: Why? University is where you get to go to learn about what you’d like to do as a grown-up (and I understand that this may seem ambiguous or imprecise, to say the least… But, she’s 5.)
Her: Is there a Princess University?
Lately, it’s been hectic.
Side note: For no particular reason, I’ve never been one to call E “princess” and I am not really into tiaras, sparkles and pink, to the point that she’s remarked that I am more into “boy things”. However I will not put a damper on her obsession of marrying into a royal family or trying to walk two hours around our neighborhood in a pair of play cinderella shoes she swapped with a friend for her semi-comfortable red ballet flats.