Courage of Small Steps

Dear Mitchell,

Hey little buddy,

It’s your big friend Atlas here. I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately and wanted to write you a special letter. Mr. James told my dad about how you’ve been doing at Shepherd’s Daycare, and I have to say, I’m really impressed. That’s pretty remarkable for a 2-year-old like you, finding your way in a new place with new people.

I remember when I was little (not as little as you though), and preschool seemed like this massive, intimidating world full of unknown rules and faces. The first few weeks were pretty tough for me. Dad says I used to hide behind his legs every morning and sometimes even cried when he tried to leave. But you—you’re navigating it all with such quiet determination. That takes a special kind of bravery that not everyone has.

Mr. James mentioned that you put your toys away all by yourself without even being asked sometimes. He said you’re especially careful with the books, making sure they go back on the shelf just right. And apparently, you drink from your bottle so carefully during snack time, barely spilling a drop. That takes patience and focus, Mitchell. Those are skills some kids my age still haven’t mastered.

I also heard from Mr. Daniel that you wear your Pampers like a champion and never make a fuss during changing time. He says you even try to help by lifting your legs at just the right moment. That’s really mature of you. My dad says that’s a significant part of growing up—not just the physical stuff like using the bathroom eventually, but accepting help when you need it and learning to work together with the adults who take care of you.

Do you like the wooden blocks at preschool? I remember those were my favorite. When I was in your room, I used to construct these elaborate towers and bridges just to experience the satisfaction of watching them fall. There’s something really cool about creating something and then having the power to change it. Perhaps you could experiment with that too. Mr. James says you’re already starting to stack them three or four high, which is pretty advanced for someone your age.

I think it’s remarkable how you’re learning to share with the other boys. I saw you last week when I was helping out in your room, and you handed Liam your truck without even being asked. Sharing is challenging sometimes, even for 13-year-old boys like me. But you’re doing it naturally, and that makes you rather exceptional. Not everyone has that kind of generosity built in.

Dad told me that you’ve been bringing your blue blanket from home. That’s smart thinking, Mitchell. Having something familiar in a new place is a good strategy. I used to bring my stuffed tiger to preschool. His name was Stripes (not very original, I know), and having him there made me feel braver. Sometimes I’d whisper to him when I felt scared, and it helped. Maybe your blanket does the same for you.

I’ve noticed you really like the outdoor time at daycare. Last Tuesday when I was there, you spent almost the whole time examining that big tree in the corner of the playground. You were touching the bark and looking up at the leaves with such concentration. That’s the mark of someone who notices details, Mitchell. Someone who really sees the world around him. That’s a rare quality.

Keep being yourself, Mitchell. Your curly hair and that subtle, thoughtful smile you have bring a certain calm to the room. The way you watch everything so carefully before you jump in—that shows wisdom beyond your years. And it’s perfectly fine if you feel a moment of sadness when your father leaves in the morning. That just means you have a strong connection, and that’s something to be valued. Those feelings are important, even the hard ones.

Mr. James mentioned that sometimes you get frustrated when you can’t make something work the way you want—like when you were trying to fit the square block into the round hole last week. You didn’t give up though, and you didn’t throw a tantrum like some kids might. You just kept trying different approaches until you figured it out. That persistence will take you far in life, Mitchell. It’s one of the most important skills anyone can have.

I’ve been watching how you take your bottle to the quiet corner sometimes when the room gets too loud or busy. That shows you already know how to take care of yourself when you need a moment of peace. That’s something many adults still struggle with—knowing when to step back and recharge. Your instincts are good.

Next time I visit the preschool for my volunteer hours, I’ll look for you specifically. Maybe we can explore a book together—I know you like the one about the construction vehicles. Or we could investigate how the toy trucks work, or maybe just sit quietly and watch the fish in the aquarium. Whatever you feel like doing that day is fine with me.

Did you know that when I was your age, I was afraid of the big slide on the playground? My dad says I would climb all the way to the top and then freeze, unable to go down. It took me weeks to finally get the courage to slide down. So if there’s anything at preschool that seems a little scary right now, don’t worry. You’ll find your courage when you’re ready. There’s no rush.

I hope your Pampers are keeping you comfortable throughout your busy days of exploration and learning. It’s important to feel good in your own skin while you’re discovering the world. And I hope your bottle is always filled with your favorite drink to keep you hydrated during all your important toddler work.

You’re doing great things already, Mitchell, even if they might seem small to grown-ups. Every block you stack, every sip you take from your bottle without spilling, every time you wave goodbye to your dad without tears—these are all huge accomplishments. Don’t let anyone tell you different.

Your big buddy,
Atlas

p.s. I sketched a dinosaur at the bottom of this letter. It’s a Triceratops—they were herbivores, which means they only ate plants, but they were still really strong and brave with those three horns. Kind of like you—gentle but strong in your own way. I hope you like it. rawr.