First Day

On Sunday night, Charles repeatedly and loudly insisted, “I’m not even nervous to go to kindergarten tomorrow!”

 

  

He woke up at 6:30 am, an hour earlier than I usually drag him out of bed.  Excited?  I’d say so.  After about the fourth time that he asked me when we were leaving (apparently, “in an hour and a half” was not a good enough response), I told him that we would leave when the clock read 8:50.  The rest of the morning went something like this:

 

“Mom!  The clock says eight one five!”

 

“Mom!  The clock says eight two two!”

 

“Mom!  The clock says eight three four!”

 

“Mom!  The clock says eight four one!”

 

 

The school is a half-mile away from our house, so I am now going to be walking at least two miles a day, with the stroller and the baby in the Ergo.  When we’re with Charles (the way there in the morning and the way home in the afternoon), it’s a bit reminiscent of Oregon Trail: Charles sets a grueling pace.  The only “safety” conversation we’ve had to have is one about “not getting too far ahead of mom.”

 

 

I only cried once, when I was giving him a final hug goodbye at his desk; I choked back the tears and told him how much I loved him and how proud of him I was, and I promised that I was crying happy tears.  Then I high-fived him, he turned toward the teacher, and I walked away.

 

He loved his first day of school.  He’s in a dual-language program and so will be learning in both Spanish and English.  His favorite part of the day is P.E., no surprise, and he loves his teacher, who told the class a funny story about socks (I’m not really sure what the story was about, but Charles was so excited about how funny it was that he sort of gasped his way through the retelling).  He likes recess and he’s already made new friends.

I think it’s going to be a great year.