It is amazing what we will do for our children.

Every year it is a spectacle to witness, but maybe it is not so wonderful to participate in the pre-kindergarten registration gala that began at 7 in the morning Tuesday.

Now for those of you who have never been a part of this clustering of parents, please allow me a moment to explain that seven hours into the day of March 10 isn’t actually the beginning.

Try 6 p.m. thirteen hours earlier.

That’s right. On Monday evening, the first parents attempting to get their kids into one of the prized 80 public school system slots get in line outside the Cail Community Center.

Resembling fans trying to get the best available Rolling Stones concert tickets or the chance to park their can in seats at a Duke-North Carolina men’s basketball game, the initial parent is followed closely by No. 2, then No. 3 and so forth.

By 7:30 p.m., the parents lined up at the center in their fold-up and lounge-style chairs had reached 20. No. 60 arrived approximately eight minutes before 1 a.m.

A clean family-friendly version of what a child’s guardian thought of having to stay up all night to get a child into a pre-k classroom: “This is ridiculous.”

An alternative would be to have a lottery for the slots. That, however, involves luck, which some of the weary-eyed parents admitted wasn’t exactly their strong suit.

One thing that can be assured is those parents who marked their territory for as many as 13 hours – the equivalent of an American Cancer Society Relay For Life event plus 60 minutes – truly do care about their children. To dedicate that many hours to get a classroom spot logically means those parents also would be the ones who would make the effort to visit with teachers in-person and via the telephone to make sure the children are doing what they should be doing as students both academically and behaviorally.

The other alternative is to enroll your child locally in either Weavers Play & Learn Center or Hiltonia HeadStart. Both of these also are fine programs, but they do not have the annual adults bundled in blankets, watching DVD movies, and conversing with their new-found friends they just met in line.

There is something to be said about a two-day version of a half-a-day’s worth of stories about “my son doesn’t pick up his socks” and “my daughter keeps getting into my makeup bag.” People matched up simply by how they showed up for the registration found out their kids are very similar. That may be good or bad depending on if your children are the next Will Smiths or Albert Einsteins or, on the other hand, the next Milli Vanillis or Joey Buttafuccos.

And you might think that being a teacher in the school system could get you some extra perks on getting a child into pre-k.

It doesn’t.

Educators were among the half-asleep parents in line early Tuesday. A group of them had secured line spots in the mid-30s. One of them was even a pre-k instructor.

So much for having an inside track on a slot.

And other than their reward for locking a pre-k position for their own kid, the teachers got the opportunity to go to work and teach a classroom full of other people’s kids Tuesday. The ladies probably crashed into their puffy pillows and majestic mattresses that evening for some well-deserved shut-eye.

As for myself, I was scheduled to relieve my wife in the pre-k line at about 1 a.m. But when I got there, my wife, who must have tapped into a fountain of youth, gave me the “I’m fine. You can go home and get some sleep” modified speech.

Since I logged in a three-hour nap, I was rather wide awake and chose to speak to a few of the in-line parents – at least the ones who hadn’t nodded off yet.

Then I ran a few 1 a.m. errands for my spouse. Those jaunts through a quiet Sylvania included getting her a blanket and picking up a liter of caffeine-enhancer known in most circles as Mountain Dew at the open-24-hours Rusty’s.

Still not ready for beddie-bye, I decided to compose this column that you are reading. Trust me, there is not much hoopin’ and hollerin’ at 3 o’clock in the morning in these parts.

As the day wore on, I started waking up my already-enrolled children to begin a new day of learning. I also swung by the Cail Center to escort my wife home with the knowledge my daughter Callee will become a part of next year’s newest group of students in the Screven County school system.

Staying with the doing things for your kids theme, over the weekend, my two sons participated in the district Cub Scout Pinewood Derby races in the Statesboro Mall. I am proud of all the local scouts and, of course, both of my children – Stone and Broc.

Stone’s wooden car won a couple races and Broc’s even won first place in his Wolves division. A top honor at district doesn’t happen often for Screven County scouts, if ever. Now Broc now will represent the county and his Pack 391 at the Coastal Empire Council derby March 21 in the Savannah Mall.

Broc sanded and painted his winning wooden car with a vengeance, but his scientific mastermind mother assisted him as did the considerate individuals who followed an outline to carve out the initial vehicle design. We also must thank those at Possum Eddy’s who helped us find just the right sized drill bit.

My part in this? I was there for moral support and I was available to polish up Broc’s trophy acceptance speech, if necessary.

And, by the way, my daughter Tea was a recent “Student of the Month.”

Yes, I hopped up on my soapbox and decided to gloat.

A well-placed “Hey, my child did well” isn’t a bad thing if it is not overindulging.

In the next few weeks, our community will be smack dab in the middle of the activities of the Livestock Festival, which is a celebration of our heritage through the lives of our current youthful animal exhibitors. To get those animals of championship caliber, it takes loads of continued hard work from the local children and their parents, their grandparents, their FFA advisors, and 4-H sponsors.

Every day our children do things that make us proud. We need to acknowledge that.

So if it takes a “ridiculous” notion of camping outside a night to get our children off on the right educational foot, going sleepless isn’t too much to ask.

Enoch Autry is the publisher-editor of the Sylvania Telephone.