Some of you may remember that last year my son Will, who was a first-grader, had some separation anxiety at the beginning of the school year.

We had just moved to Greencastle the June before, so he was in a new school. He had suffered two devastating losses -- the deaths of his godfather and his great-grandfather -- over the summer.

He threw screaming, crying fits for two solid weeks every day when we would try to drop him off at school. Staff members knew we were coming, and sometimes had to literally hold my kid back as my husband or I, whoever was the unlucky one charged with dropping Will off at Deer Meadow Primary, made a run for our cars.

Eventually Will settled in, and the rest of the year went off without incident. But the memory of those first two weeks of the 2008-09 school year are etched into my brain with alarming clarity.

As the beginning of Will's second grade year drew near, my husband and I got a bit nervous. Will is a creature of habit and routine, and he doesn't deal well with change. He had been with his grandparents over much of the summer; when he was at home he stayed with his father during the day and me in the evenings.

Andy and I worried that Will would melt down again when his groove was disturbed. He had gotten used to staying up late, sleeping in late and playing all day. What would the structure of the school year do to his delicate psyche?

A couple of days before school started, Will told me he was excited. I was cautiously optimistic. He has often said he wanted to do something, only to chicken out when confronted with actually doing it.

I didn't totally trust him.

The night before school started, I took Will to Deer Meadow's "Meet the Teacher" night. He was able to meet Mrs. Riggle, his new teacher, put his new school supplies in his desk, check out his cubby and explore the room he would be learning in for the next nine months.

When we got home that night, he told me he was so excited about going to school that he didn't know if his "body would let me go to sleep." He took his bath and got into his pajamas sans argument. He had a snack and was asleep by 8:45 p.m.

Still, I couldn't let myself believe that my son, who had been such a hot mess about school a year ago, was really going to skip into his classroom on the first day and not have some sort of breakdown.

We all got up together on Will's first day. He put on his new clothes, brushed his teeth and informed my husband, who was taking him to school, that he would wait out on the porch swing for him.

Quite a change from the kid who had to be dragged out of the house kicking and screaming the year before.

I called Andy when I knew Will would have been dropped off. Will had bounced out of the car and into the school with a smile on his face and a spring in his step.

When I picked Will up that afternoon, he immediately began chattering about what he had learned that day.

King Tut! Egypt! Mummies!

Quite a change from the kid who would sit in the backseat on the way home and sullenly answer "I don't know" when I asked him a year ago what he had done in school that day.

We got home, and he did his homework without whining or arguing.

Huh?

The second day of school went off exactly the same way. When I picked Will up, he asked me how many hours it would be until he went back.

Wow.

In half an hour, I will go pick him up from day three.

I'm still cautiously optimistic, but things are looking good.