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My preschooler, who we've named The Cheese Eater because of his abnormal appetite for cheese, has been getting a crash course in growing up. Two nights a week, he has to sit down and practice writing his letters and numbers. Yes, that's right. My 4-year-old has homework.

When his teacher told me at the beginning of the school year that he would have homework, I was speechless. At Back-to-School Night, I jotted down notes as she gave us information regarding snack time and appropriate playground attire, but when she unexpectedly mentioned the word "homework" I stopped writing to stare at her.

This was "pre" school, as in "that fun little place where children go to before their school years to get used to being away from Mama." Homework wasn't something that I thought I would be dealing with for years to come. He could barely write. How was homework even going to be possible?

But there I was just a few weeks later, sitting at the kitchen table with my child who could suddenly hold a pencil correctly and spell his name using all capital letters.

"What letter is this?" I asked him pointing to one of the three pages of homework.

"It's an "R" Mommy."

"That's right!"

"Rrrrr, rabbit. Rabbit starts with 'R'," he confidently informed me.

"Very good!"

"But carrot doesn't start with 'R'. It starts with 'C'."

"You're so smart now!"

Out of the blue my little son has become a big boy. I wasn't sure how it happened exactly, but I feel the sudden urge to put a brick on his head.