Second, preschool. Man oh Manischewitz. Sophia had a bit of a meltdown when gently asked to climb down from a chair (it was time for music circle), because while she is impervious to the most furious mama-yelling, she will weep for days over the gentlest (perceived) correction. "Watch out, honey, your fingers might get caught in the drawer!" once derailed an entire Thanksgiving dinner, leaving extended family members baffled and guilty. Then there was some sort of incident I didn't see in which "a boy HIT me!" and I had no idea whether it had been a deliberate cuff or an accidental brushing. We've been talking about what to do when someone hits/pushes/otherwise manhandles us, which entails informing the hitter "Don't hit me! Hitting hurts!" and seeking the help of an adult if needed, and she was eventually able to practice on her friends (harmless brush-by push, gave her a reason to work her skills), but she freezes, deer in headlights, when confronted with most kids.
Three things leave me hopeful, though. 1) would be the wonderful teacher M, who seems to totally get Sophia and was full of good suggestions for how to work with her. 2) was the fact that, when asked how preschool went, Sophia grinned big and said, "Gooooood!" 3) is the nap we both took upon arrival home. Two solid hours, man. And she's still tired enough for bed.
As am I. Shadrach, Meshach, and to bed we go.