Preschool has officially ended for Harrison. Another chapter has closed, as he’ll be heading to kindergarten in the fall.

Obviously, I’ve known I would be writing this post since his very first day of preschool, on the day he turned three. Still, I’ve struggled with it. I’ve struggled to get the words out. It is one of those times when I simply cannot quantify my feelings and emotions. I’ve struggled to find the words that can even come close to encompassing everything.

We won’t even go into how many drafts I’ve gone through!

No, there simply are not enough words. This carries so much emotional weight (in a good way), and I haven’t been able to write anything that felt like it was “enough”.

It is truly bittersweet. Honestly, to say it is bittersweet is arguably underselling it.

Harrison started going to preschool literally the day he turned three, back in March 2024. Starting in the spring like that meant he only got a small taste of it those last few months of the school year. It was a “dipping our toes into the water” type of situation, but right from the start, it was clear that sending him to preschool was unquestionably the right call.

But being the right call doesn’t mean it was a simple choice to make!

It is very hard to send your child off to be cared for and watched over by other people, especially when that child is nonspeaking and can’t tell you, good or bad, how the day went.

There was never any hesitation or doubt about our being able to trust Kara; that was never in question. We knew, even before that very first day, that Harrison would be in great hands.

Over the past 2+ years, Harrison has thrived under her guidance, as well as Kelsey and Brooke’s care. They have proven day in and day out not just how right we were, but how truly great those hands he has been in were.

March 4, 2024 – Harrison went to his first day of preschool.

April 29, 2026 – Harrison’s last day of preschool.

And between those two dates, there was a lot of life.

In that time, we’ve had 11 trips to Greenville, 3 sets of AFOs, a major surgery, which was then followed by 6 weeks of being in casts.

Transitioning from walking to being pulled around in a wagon, and then back to walking again.

He’s had an activity chair, the just-mentioned wagon, and a wheelchair, all used as extra forms of mobility.

Multiple IEP meetings and parent/teacher conferences, not to mention increased use of his AAC device, the days that came after long sleepless nights, and just the occasional moody Harrison day.

There have been countless changes between that first day and the last, and these three ladies have felt those changes on a day-to-day basis in a way very few people ever could.

They’ve encountered the nuances of who our son is and have learned what it means to be on the Harrison rollercoaster.

Looking back now, I don’t think we could have asked for a more perfect trio to entrust our little boy with. Each had their role, played their part, but all three were necessary and irreplaceable. They not only taught and worked with Harrison, but they also took the time to learn who he is. They paid attention. They figured out his looks, his stubbornness, his quiet opinions, his little tells, his masks, and the ways he communicates when he decides he wants to.

Because to know Harrison is to know that he keeps things very close to the vest.

He wears many masks.

It takes a while to get through, but once you get through and you are in his circle, you are in his circle. And he is selective. He has friends he trusts. There are certain therapists he trusts. There are certain family members he trusts.

But these three got in.

Kara, Brooke, and Kelsey got in.

And that matters more than I can explain. I’d argue they even know him in ways better than we do. They definitely know sides of him that we don’t. And that makes all the difference in the world. To them, he was always just a kid. He was Harrison.

And he knew that. Reacted to that. And he trusted them because of that.

Kara, being the steady center of all of this, has clearly been the keystone to Harrison’s success. She was there at the very beginning. I would joke, saying she was doing her best to “recruit” him, even before he could attend preschool, never realizing it was a foregone conclusion before she ever said the first word. She has always set the tone, helping to make sure Harrison never felt overwhelmed and always felt comfortable and safe while at school.

She’s also the queen of the late evening photo dumps, which became such a part of our daily routine that when they didn’t happen, their absence was felt.

Here’s a bit where I confess something: while Kara would send things to both Jenna and me, I would always leave the reactions and comments to Jenna. Arguably, I’ve probably left Kara wondering about my thoughts on occasion. (And I know she’s been anticipating this post!)

The truth is, when Kara shared photos with us, showing us how Harrison’s day went, I would wait a bit to look. I cannot tell you how many times in the past three years that I have sat and just stared through tears at a photo of my son doing something at school.

A picture of him doing an activity (especially if he was painting!)

Sitting around with his classmates.

Playing.

Smiling.

Being happy.

Whether it was in the gym, on the playground, in the classroom, or somewhere else entirely, I truly cannot tell you how many times I have sat in silence and just looked.

Jenna probably hasn’t even realized it half the time.

But I have sat there, looking at photos with tears and smiles, seeing images of my little boy being a little boy.

And being happy.

That has been overwhelming for me. It’s honestly overwhelming to me even now, just typing it out and thinking about it.

Kara has been amazing for Harrison in so many seen and unseen ways. And as supportive of him as she has been, she’s been just as supportive of us as his parents. She has been a nurturing presence, and simply put, I’m going to miss her and her daily updates, especially the ones when Harrison had “the greatest day!”

Brooke has been such a sweet and supportive presence for him. Quiet, steady, kind, and present in ways that I don’t even know how to describe in full detail because so much of this story has happened during parts of the day I am not there to see.

But I know enough. I know enough from the pictures. I know enough from the updates.

As much as Kara has been the keystone to keep everything up, Brooke has been the glue holding it together. She actually reminds me in ways of Harrison’s older sister, Abby. A presence that gives him peace, simply by her being around. Knowing she’s there. I have no doubt there were countless days when Harrison’s attitude suggested anything but that; however, just like with his sister, I guarantee he noticed when she wasn’t around. I’ve seen the smiles on his face in photos, and I know that Harrison trusts her.

And for Harrison, trust is not a small thing.

Trust is not automatic; trust has to be earned.

Brooke earned it, and if that’s the only thing I ever knew of her, that would be enough.

Now, for Kelsey. Kelsey is a whole different story! Kelsey arguably could warrant her own post! And that’s not taking anything away from Kara and Brooke, but even they would admit to you that Kelsey has been Harrison’s person.

If you broke down time, Kelsey has probably spent the most one-on-one time with Harrison, next to Jenna. And again, that is not taking away from anyone else, but it is absolutely fair to say that, if push came to shove, Kelsey has been a second mom to him while he has been at school.

You can see it in how she interacts with him, and especially in how he interacts with her.

I do not think it is an argument to say that, next to Jenna and me, Kelsey knows Harrison better than anyone. And there are probably ways she definitely knows Harrison better than we do.

Harrison has his mom, and she can go Mama Bear on anybody. But it is a safe bet to say Harrison has someone else who, I am sure, could be Mama Bear-triggered if it came down to it.

Kelsey has helped nurture, encourage, and console him. Whatever Harrison has needed on any given day, Kelsey has been that person for him.

Where Kara is the keystone, and Brooke is the glue, Kelsey is the foundation. Everything is stronger with her there.

The only proof one needs of that is to simply know that we all (being Jenna, myself, Kara, and Brooke) learned early on that if Kelsey wasn’t going to be at school, we had to give Harrison a heads-up ahead of time. You had to give this boy prep time to not have his person at school that day. If you tried dropping that on him first thing in the morning in the drop-off line, all bets were off!

Kara would make sure to let us know that morning, or the night before, that Kelsey would not be there the next day, allowing us to tell Harrison; that became part of the routine. We had to let him know.

She is the first person we’ve ever had to do that with. The first person where we had to say, “Hey, you know, we’re going here, but she’s not going to be there today. Just so you know. We don’t want you thinking she will be.”

That may sound like a small thing to some people.

It is not.

Not for Harrison.

Not for us.

I can get emotional if I sit and think about it too long, because I know how important she is to him. And it is hard. It is hard because time moves forward. Things change. Things grow. Things evolve.

And now he moves to kindergarten.

Which means he has to leave her behind.

And I absolutely hate it.

Because I do not want him to ever lose or not have somebody like Kelsey.

It hurts because I know he will be upset. It could be in the middle of summer or on the first day of kindergarten this fall.

And he is going to be upset because he misses her.

And we may not even know that it’s the reason he’s upset, and that breaks my heart for him because he adores her.

If Harrison could tell you, I can say with absolute certainty that she is easily in his top five favorite people. Period.

But if there is one thing about kindergarten that I dread, it is that Harrison is going to be separated from Kelsey. I know part of him is going to be absolutely brokenhearted when he steps into that school, and it is not Kelsey he is going to.

That is how incredible she has been.

That is how important she has been.

That is how much I know she means to him.

All three have helped build something in Harrison that I never knew to hope for.

I have written time and time again about how I did not expect this, or I did not anticipate that. And I am always cautious about how I word those things because I never want it to sound like I underestimate my son.

I never do.

I let others do that.

There is nothing I do not consider possible for him. The sky is the limit with Harrison, but to get by day to day, I also have to keep myself rooted in reality. I have to keep reasonable expectations at certain times. IEP meetings, doctors’ appointments, and therapy discussions are really good reminders of that.

So when we put Harrison into preschool, of course, we thought it would be good for him.

Good for him to get out. To be away from both his parents for a bit. Good to be around other kids. But I went in not really knowing what to expect. Not because I did not think things were possible; I just didn’t know what was possible.

I do not know that I would have picked Harrison having friends as he does. I don’t mean just buddies who say, “Hey, Harrison,” but friends who want to help him. Friends who are there for him. Friends who just see Harrison.

And that is it.

Even if you had told me, I do not know that I would have allowed myself to believe that Harrison would have had this amount of growth, personality, confidence, and connection at this point.

Because, on the surface, I am sure a lot of people have dismissed Harrison.

And I am sure plenty of people will continue to.

There have been times when I have definitely felt like when his mom or I talk about things he does, or when we say, “You can tell he’s thinking,” or “You can tell he’s doing this,” or “He knows exactly what’s going on,” some people look at us like we are just being his parents who are blind to the reality of things.

Like, we are overselling it or trying to make something sound like more than it is.

I try very hard not to do that. I do not ever want to set an expectation above what my son is capable of, but I also do not ever want to sell him short.

Because yes, he is nonspeaking, but that child can communicate with you if he wants.

Sometimes it is subtle. Sometimes it is barely noticeable. Sometimes you have to know him to catch it, but the communication is there. And I think, deep down, I always assumed we would be climbing a mountain alone because other people would not pick up on those subtleties the way we do.

Kara, Brooke, and Kelsey disproved that immensely.

They were with Harrison enough.

They took the time. They paid attention, and they learned our son.

They saw the Harrison we see.

Because he had them.

He had Kara.

He had Brooke.

He had Kelsey.

And they had him.

I could write post after post after post about these three and how incredible they have been.

About the immeasurable gratitude I have toward them for what they have given my son.

And again, it is hard to put into words because they were not just part of his preschool experience; they were part of his success. They helped build the foundation he gets to carry into kindergarten.

Socially.

Educationally.

Emotionally.

All of it.

They gave him room to be Harrison.

Not a diagnosis. Not a list of limitations. Not a child to be underestimated.

Just Harrison.

A little boy doing projects, making friends, holding a paintbrush in his mouth, laughing, being stubborn, being smart, and being loved.

A little boy being just that: a little boy.

And that is why this has been so hard to write.

Because, just like with Harrison’s PT Taylor, who moved away last year, these three are part of the extremely few who have essentially been in the trenches with us. They have helped Harrison in countless, immeasurable ways. They have also carried a piece of this with us. They have an understanding that very few people can.

While Harrison’s world continues to get larger, moving on to kindergarten, in a way, ours feels like it has gotten just a bit smaller.

Because that is what happens when a chapter this meaningful closes.

You are grateful.

You are proud.

You are excited for what comes next, but you still hate turning the page.

And as hard as it is to close this preschool chapter, I know we are closing it with gratitude.

With tears, sure.

With some dread about what changes next, and with a lot of emotions that I still cannot fully quantify.

But at the core, with gratitude.

Because all good things must come to an end.

And in these first five years of Harrison’s life, preschool was not just good.

It was one of the greats.