One Day at a Time
Here it is, day two. After a very fun party last night and a well-deserved rest for all, we were back at it again this morning. He was not up before the sun today, as I believe he was recuperating from a long, exciting, napless day yesterday. Regardless, he was ready to go back to Kindergarten. That made me feel good. Apparently there are no mean children or cruel teachers lying in wait to traumatize my little boy.
As we drove to school, he was once again regaling me with all the things he had learned and done yesterday, as well as telling about all of his new friends and his plans for the day. Upon entering the school this time, he led the way. He showed me where his classroom was and headed straight for his cubby. No shaky hands or hint of nervousness as he hung up his backpack. Today, he knew the ropes. Today, he was truly a Kindergartener. How is it, that a 5-year-old can adjust to a completely new situation within 24 hours? Here I sit, using this medium as my catharsis. My coping mechanism. What happens to us between childhood and adulthood that makes us cling to the ever familiar for us to be completely comfortable?
As I stood, watching my son grow up before my very eyes, I suddenly felt like a child myself. Unsure of my changing role in his life. Unsure of how I should be reacting to this new stage in both our lives. He quickly shook me from my thoughts as he dragged me down the hall and out the door. He was ready to hit the playground and find his new friends. Today, it was me, not him, who needed the ‘one last kiss and hug’. My daughter and I were still saying our goodbyes as he was running down the hill to play. I found I just couldn’t leave. I stood there, my daughter waving and shouting to her brother, and I needed assurance that he was OK. I stood, unaware of the children running and laughing around me, my eyes focused on that red fleece that was making its way around the playground. He stopped and waited, until finally he started jumping up and down. He had found his classmate! The other boy came up to him and gave him a hug, and off they ran together. I smiled, knowing that each day would get easier and easier. He was in a good place, and I knew I would find mine soon.
We started back to the car, my daughter and I, and I looked down at this munchkin by my side and asked, “So what do you want to do today?”
As we drove to school, he was once again regaling me with all the things he had learned and done yesterday, as well as telling about all of his new friends and his plans for the day. Upon entering the school this time, he led the way. He showed me where his classroom was and headed straight for his cubby. No shaky hands or hint of nervousness as he hung up his backpack. Today, he knew the ropes. Today, he was truly a Kindergartener. How is it, that a 5-year-old can adjust to a completely new situation within 24 hours? Here I sit, using this medium as my catharsis. My coping mechanism. What happens to us between childhood and adulthood that makes us cling to the ever familiar for us to be completely comfortable?
As I stood, watching my son grow up before my very eyes, I suddenly felt like a child myself. Unsure of my changing role in his life. Unsure of how I should be reacting to this new stage in both our lives. He quickly shook me from my thoughts as he dragged me down the hall and out the door. He was ready to hit the playground and find his new friends. Today, it was me, not him, who needed the ‘one last kiss and hug’. My daughter and I were still saying our goodbyes as he was running down the hill to play. I found I just couldn’t leave. I stood there, my daughter waving and shouting to her brother, and I needed assurance that he was OK. I stood, unaware of the children running and laughing around me, my eyes focused on that red fleece that was making its way around the playground. He stopped and waited, until finally he started jumping up and down. He had found his classmate! The other boy came up to him and gave him a hug, and off they ran together. I smiled, knowing that each day would get easier and easier. He was in a good place, and I knew I would find mine soon.
We started back to the car, my daughter and I, and I looked down at this munchkin by my side and asked, “So what do you want to do today?”
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