When our youngest arrived in New Zealand in early February 2025, she had just turned four. Back in Korea, she had been a happy daycare kid — but the months of preparation and upheaval before our move had quietly shaken her sense of security. By the time we landed, she struggled to be apart from me.
We enrolled her in a local daycare from April while I was studying. Having Korean-speaking teachers helped, and she gradually found her footing — but she got sick constantly, and the toll it was taking on her, physically and emotionally, was hard to ignore.
By October, when my first year of study ended, we brought her home. Part of it was her wellbeing — but part of it was something else entirely. School was just around the corner. Once she started Year 0, our slow mornings and unhurried afternoons would be gone. We wanted those last few months to just be ours.
Her social life was full enough — older sisters, church friends, a warm personality that made friends wherever she went. What we hadn't figured out yet was how to help her get ready for an English-speaking classroom.
That question — and everything we tried to answer it — is where this story really begins.
