My Buddy and Me, We Can Climb up a Tree

After some angst on my part, and cheerful oblivion on his part, Hank started pre-K today. This morning, we packed his Boba Fett lunchbox. He was perfectly happy as we threaded our way through the fiendishly complicated carpool drop-off procedure. Color-coded traffic pattern map of the parking lot. Long, long line of minivans and SUV's. Then, as one of the teachers helped him out of the car, he was struck silent. He looked a little queasy. He went along though.

At this school, the teachers put the kids in the car again at pickup time, no parking and going to the classroom. Which is mighty convenient for the moms, but again, long long line of minivans. I approached the safety cone zone waving my carpool tag against the windshield and scanning for his orange shirt in the group of waiting kids. His teacher saw me right away, and through my open window I heard her say to him, "You said it was a blue car and it is!" She helped him up into his seat and said he had a great first day.

As we drove on, I asked him how it was and he said, "Awesome." Relief! Then he told me all about a game of pretend pirates he'd played on the playground, and how it involved jumping over spikes and also radioactive sludge. I asked him what had gone on inside the classroom. He reported that the snack was apples, and said he couldn't remember anything else. So I did the questioning routine that parents are expert at, and found out that he'd played at all the centers and that the teachers were nice, and everybody liked his lunchbox, even the teachers, he said. Okay, so far, so good.

Sleeping off pre-K

We went home and met Laura, who had a half day of school today, and went to the pool. After swimming a while, I noticed that Hank seemed out of sorts. He acted tired and fractious, not like him. So I took him home and created a nap trap on the couch. I lay down and invited him to climb up next to me, and then I covered us both with a blanket. It worked inside a minute. I may have succumbed myself.

When he woke up, he still had fragile feelings. I think it was just all the newness--new place, new people, new systems--and after a long summer of the familiar and comfortable it was a lot to metabolize. At bedtime though, he said, "I don't want to be tired for the second day of school!"

This morning I was filling out his paperwork, and his teacher had included an index card with the instructions, "Tell me anything you want me to know about your child." I paused over it, and Dad said, "Tell her that he is a golden snowflake, precious and unique in all the cosmos, and that they best be sure to recognize that."

I told him that I need those words made into a rubber stamp. There are a lot of school years ahead of us.

I hope your year is off to a smooth start, my buddies.