It’s actually the end of the second week of kindergarten, but I suppose that fact #1. allows for some poetic license #2. reveals just how long it takes to survive the first week of kindergarten.
Mister loves it. Everything about it. The teacher, the teacher’s assistant, his new friends, arts and crafts time, learning the Pledge of Allegiance in Latin, bringing his own lunchbox, his cool new pair of shoes, and even — gasp — homework.
And I love it. I love the gap-toothed grin that greets me when I come home from work, the pint-sized swagger in his step, the structure and environment in which I can see him thriving daily. He reports on how responsibly he did his job (the kids are given different responsibilities and his this week was sweeping floors) and how he exercised self-discipline (no yellow or red lights for bad behavior). Who knew that kindergarten would be the first steps to manhood?
Surprisingly, neither of us cried that first day. Mister was a little scared, but he toughed it out and put on his best big-boy face. When the first bell rang, teachers had to shoo parents out of the way to clear an entry path into the building. The kindergarteners were first and lined up dutifully. I will never forget the image of Mister clutching the straps of his too-big backpack and jutting his chin out to keep his nerves at bay. ( Mommy was not fooled.) Then seeing his little head bob up and down, up the ramp, through the massive double doors, and into a brand new adventure of life.
Riding on the coattails of this adrenaline rush, I told myself I’d pack lunch for Mister as often as possible. Below: ham sandwich shaped by this Dinosaur sandwich cutter ; raspberries and grapes, pretzel chips and cheese cubes, and carrot sticks crammed into this bento-style Ziploc tupperware .
And just because I can: (As another mom wisely put it, I only have so many years before I cripple his social life with such things…)
And a peek at what kindergarteners do all day: