My oldest son has been in preschool for 2 years now. Next year, we will hold him back so that this Summer baby can catch up to his older classmates. Feeling like a bit of an old hand in this game now, I've decided to share what it is I've learned from preschool.

You aren't going to like everyone, but you still have to get along.

Yup, Preschool 101.

Ever heard that phrase "you can't choose your family members", well, sadly... this is exactly like that. You can't choose your child's preschool class, and in turn, you are not able to pre-select the parents of the children in said class.

Yes, you can pick a nice school in a lovely part of town, but newsflash - even morons make a good choice every now and then.

For the most part, these are people that you do not have to spend a great deal around. However, there will be the occasional email bombardment, holiday party and pageant. At some point, you will roll your eyes or wish you were homeschooling. It's bound to happen.

Those professional placemat decorators, craft lords and glitter warriors will always have a place for their "art".

I. Don't. Do. Hand Turkeys.

Or glitter.

Really, I've never been skilled in the art of table decorations, bulletin board design, or bubble letters. But those people have a special role in preschool (and most of school) and they will showcase their "talents" every chance they get. You bring a roll of red streamers to tape in sections above the door. They bring white tin buckets hand-painted with pink, purple and red spots brimming with pink "easter grass" with a small field of 8-inch suckers stuck inside for the "centerpieces".

Your children are surrounded by monogrammed backpacks and personalized name plates, and you are grateful, but will never understand how anyone can come up with this stuff.

You will always hate 7 AM

In school, I woke every morning begging with my alarm clock for just "five more minutes". I begrudgingly drug myself through my closet, shoved a Pop-Tart down my throat, and basically counted the seconds until I graduated high school so that I would have the "freedom" to go to class whenever I darn well pleased.

You get to college, maybe make your 8 AM class in your pajamas, and sometime around late Sophomore year vow to never take a class before 9 AM - and... it's awesome.

Eventually, most college students graduate into the Real World, get a "big job" and have to start getting up early, but it's just not the same as dragging the same rear end to a carpool line with a half-sleeping, half-dressed preschooler and a toddler in-tow.

When your morning is filled with rounding up The Scissor Bucket, worksheets, share bags, tiny coats and shoes, the hatred for the institution of learning rears its head, yet again.

You still get nervous talking to the teacher.

Only now they expect that you have the "right" answers. You find yourself going over an e-mail 12 times for spelling errors.

I've fumbled around with trying to decide whether or not I should call her "Mrs. Conner's Teacher" or just "Her Name".

I see the way Conner stops to listen to her when she speaks to the class, and honestly, I've looked around the room to find the adults in the same "obedient deer in headlights" glare.

Luckily, the punishment for your stumblings is merely a year's worth of aforementioned teacher believing your misguided child is a product of your stupidity or bad genes, and clearly not the school's fault.

Oh, goodie.

Field trips are STILL exciting. Thank you, Lord.

Veterinarian's office? To see the puppies?? Yes, please.

Fire station? To tour the fire house and the Big Trucks - can I come?

Museums?

A play?

COUNT MOMMA IN.

It's all exciting, really, and a much welcome break from the norm. You share the same joy as your child, trying to experience the field trip as them, and sometimes, it totally works and you feel the whole "through the eyes of a child" bit.

The part they didn't tell you - this time around, it's way better.