In the words of Nemo, "First day of school! First day of school! Wake up! Wake up!" And in the words of Marlin, "I don't want to go to school! Five more minutes!" How about five more years? Troy told The Rock Star he could go to kindergarten when he was 16.
The Rock Star looked at his father like he was insane and said sarcastically, "Sixteen, dad. Really?"
"Sure, you can get your driver's license and go to kindergarten at the same time."
I interjected, "Then you can pick up all the five and six-year-olds in the neighborhood and take them to school." Thankfully my son doesn't know what a pedophile is so to him, this was just a silly suggestion and not a creepy one.
Also weird is the fact that, in a post about my son's first day of kindergarten I just used the word pedophile. Wow. My brand of crazy knows no bounds.
He ate eggs and sausage and a banana (I got major points for the sausage because I rarely make it on account of all the gross but man oh man do my boys ever love it) and then threw his clothes on in record speed.
A friend sent me a link to these online grade graphics but I had to manipulate this one in Paint because whoever designed them spelled "Kindergartner" incorrectly. True story.
My mom bought Garrett a ton of new clothes for school and the boy has been chomping at the bit to wear them. Today was the day! Tony Hawk skater boy outfit. Check.
We snapped some quick photos and then we were off. My mother-in-law is visiting us so she kept Matthew at the house while we drove up to the school.
It was, of course, a zoo, so we had to park a little ways away and walk in.
When we got there, the first bell had already rung so he lined up against the wall like he'd been taught at his testing/meet the teacher day. He lined up between a kid his height and the tallest Kindergartner ever. In the history of kindergartners. My kid has to be one of the oldest in his class and this girl--look at this--she is like a full head taller than him. If not for the fact that everyone else seemed fairly even with Garrett, I'd have to start calling him "Hobbit." Except he doesn't have hairy feet. Legs, yes. Feet, not yet.
The kids followed their teacher into the classroom and Troy and I talked about what a weirdo our son is because, other than the smile in the above picture, he was chewing the insides of his cheeks in that way that says, "I am so excited that I have to hold my smile down with my teeth because if I act to happy I might lose my status as the uber cool kid."
The principal hung around for a minute and told us that our kids were in safe hands and blah blah blah and that is when I noticed the mom to the left of me. She did one of those audible sobs although she stifled it by throwing her hand up over her mouth. Then she quickly grabbed some tissue and began furiously dabbing at the water leaking from her eyes. And my reaction was to think, "My goodness, woman, pull yourself together!" Because my idea of a worst nightmare is to blubber in front of people.
She couldn't pull herself together and had to wiggle her way through all the other parents, crying all the way. A few other moms were softly shedding tears and I praised God that we were able to send our son to three years of preschool. Three times I've taken Garrett off to school to prepare me for this day.
I haven't shed a tear. I haven't even felt a knot form in my throat. This is our life now. School every day for...ever. Kindergarten, the rest of elementary school, junior high, high school, college, medical school. Or, okay, law school would be fine too.
But he does still have an hour and a half left of the first day of school and, tears or no, if you think I'm not counting down the minutes, you'd be wrong.