Schoolboy

This was the scene yesterday. Hank loaded up and ready for his first day of school. The contents of that tote bag are: a ziploc bag holding a change of clothes; and his Star Wars lunchbox holding a PB&J, banana, cheese crackers, and sippy cup. Yet Hank could only hold his bag with his arm up high, because it was so heavy, he said. When I was making his lunch, I cut the crusts off his sandwich so, so carefully, in case there is a correlation between neat crust-removal and academic success.

At promptly 9:30, I was in the drop-off line and at the school's front entrance. His teacher saw me roll up, and she came over and opened Hank's door. She greeted him and chattered while she unbuckled his seat, and she had his feet on the sidewalk before he knew what hit him. I had told him how this would all go, and he seemed okay with all of it. We called out our goodbyes, and I then tried to simultaneously drive away and twist my body 180 degrees, to catch one more glimpse of his little white face.

Then I went home. Where I had time to turn around completely one time and drink almost a whole cup of coffee before I was thinking, "Almost time to go get the boy." I was holding my purse and keys twenty minutes before I needed to leave.

When I got to his room to pick him up, I could see him through the window. He was studying the faces of the moms, waiting for me to appear. His teacher said that he never cried, but that he said, "Can we call my mom now?" a lot, all day. He did play, though, and she thought he'd had fun. He told me that he liked school, but his chief complaint was that they hadn't been allowed to go to the playground where there are swings. But he also said, "The teacher did let me go with the music lady," and he liked that. I think overall, it was a good first day. He hasn't said anything about not wanting to go on Friday. The second day will tell the tale, I bet. He might be, like, "Wait, we did this once already. There's no need to do it again."

While he was at school, Pretty Neighbor called and said that her kids wanted to have cupcakes for Hank at their house, in honor of his first day. We did not need convincing.

They made cards for Hank, and generally made him feel celebrated. I feel good that the first day is behind us, but it is so strange, this feeling of our children having a world separate from ours. He now knows people I don't know, even if he can't remember their names. He said, "Mom, I made new friends! But I don't know who they are." Anyway, one day down, three thousand something to go.