T. had a fantastic first day of kindergarten. Me? I had a strange first day. I walked around with the distinct feeling I was forgetting something—not a good feeling to have, really, especially when the something you feel like you’re forgetting is your child. But then I’d tell myself, reciting it like something I needed to remember: L. is in school, T. is in school, everything is okay.

The night before kindergarten, at dinner, we talked about making T. a photo collage she could keep in her backpack, to look at when she needed.

Back when L. was just a baby, Scott and I coined the word "tag-team parenting"--well, maybe we weren't the first to coin it, but we certainly felt like pioneers in that make-it-up-as-you-go territory. I distinctly remember the first time the phrase popped into my head. I had parked our old Dodge Grand Caravan at the Hardy's parking lot opposite the bus stop where the free university shuttle dropped off and picked up. I was nursing--or trying to nurse--an unhappy L. who was bundled into layers of onesies and a sweater (it was October and COLD).

My baby graduated from preschool yesterday. Despite all my claims about being ready a few weeks ago for that day, I'm not sure I really was. Because no matter how much mental preparation you do, you're just never quite ready for that final letting go, for the hands on that huge clock in the universe to click forward one more notch, marking the passage of yet another milestone in your child's life.

Kindergarten registration began yesterday. Last week Scott took T. to visit our neighborhood school--a different school from the one our son goes to. When L. started kindergarten, we lived in another neighborhood. The school there--large and business-like, didn't seem the right fit for our little guy. But T. is a different child--unique and special in her own way. More and more I hear about parents who are sending their kids to different schools and trying hard to tailor their child's education opportunities.