Day One

This morning, at 7:20, I walked my first born child into Snowden Elementary School and delivered him to a Kindergarten teacher. His dear friend, Miss M, was also in attendance. They sat down across from each other and began to draw what they did during their summer vacation. (I can only assume they both drew a picture of themselves jumping the waves in Dauphin Island.) I could see the conflict behind Connor's eyes as he tried to decide whether he was excited to be at a new school, or nervous as hell to be at a new school. I was prepared for him to fling himself at me, drape his arms around my leg, and beg me to take him home. I could see it in his eyes, right there below the surface. But in an instant, that impulse was squashed. His eyes suddenly gleamed with confidence as he waved, "Bye, Mom!" I took that opportunity to run out the door, as SAM encouraged me. "You can do it, Mom!" With tears in my eyes, I walked to work. It was easy to pull it together, though. I wasn't sad, because Connor wasn't sad.

I picked him up at 2:15 sharp, showed him where to meet his after-school ride (starting next week), and asked about his day. Playing outside on the playground and eating lunch in the cafeteria were his two favorite activities. "Did you get the note I put in your lunch?" I asked. He did. He even had a teacher read it to him, though I know he knows what "I love you" looks like. I complimented his bravery, how he had been so comfortable in that new classroom. "Oh, I cried after you left, Mom," he replied. "I was sad because I missed you." Sigh.

He came home exhausted. After dozing off and on in front of the TV, he pulled himself together to play a while and eat dinner. After dinner, however, he just couldn't take anymore. He spilled some of the Sprite he had been given in honor of his special day. He recovered from that, but minutes later hit Chloe on the arm because she was too close to that Sprite. We didn't think anything of it, consoling Chloe and letting her help with the dishes. Ten minutes later, I found Connor on the couch, sobbing still. "I didn't mean for her to tell on me!" he screamed, full of guilt and burned by her betrayal. His face was pale and splotchy. He had cried that whole time, not because he needed the attention, but because the day had finally caught up with him. I got him to relax, took him for a quick bath, and dumped him in the bed by 7:45. He was glad to be there. He might have enjoyed Kindergarten, but that 7:30 a.m. call time combined with no nap came back to bite him in the butt. I believe he'll fit in fine, play with Miss M, make new friends, and impress his teacher. He'll find his place at Snowden Elementary School. But not until next week. Right now, he just needs his momma and a good eleven hours of sleep. I'm happy to accomodate him, while I still can.