Junior Kindergarten, Take Two: It’s a WRAP!!

As you may recall, I had planned to take Little Man to a new private kindergarten today. It was our first day of a staggered entry system, meaning that five of the kids started today, and another five will start tomorrow, etcetera, until they all attend on a regular schedule next week.

 I am happy (la la la, *insert joyous singing and dancing here) to report that it went much better than expected, especially considering my complete idiocy and selective memory.

Deets on my idiocy: When I came home from the informational session last Thursday night, I could have sworn that the plan was for the parents to enter the classroom with the children today. Thus, I told Hubby and Little Man (dun dun dun) that I would be able to stay with  Little Man for the entire two hours today. For some reason (act of God, having mercy on my poor, pathetic, stupid soul?), I had a weird feeling in my gut yesterday and called the school (after it closed, of course ), to make sure that this would be the plan. I had a phone call from the secretary this morning informing me of my complete lack of sense and memory: *insert immediate headache here.

No, there would be no mommies in the classroom today. This was my crutch for getting Little Man to agree that visiting this place today would be resemble a good idea.

Feck.

Feckity feck feck feck.

*Insert dramatic soap opera music and nausea here.

Are you fecking kidding  me? Have you met  my child? Oh, er, right. You haven’t. Well. If you had met my child, you’d know that he’s an anxiety-ridden little dude who likes his mommy. Like, a lot. Ish. And you’d also know that he thinks he shouldn’t have to go to school unless the sun, moon and stars are aligned (Um, yes, I know this is impossible. Just go with it, ok?), the chi chee or che is right, and it’s sunny and raining at the same time. Oh, and there should be no snacks. These are evil.

I digress.

I hate that expression. I digress. It’s so over-used. But appropriate here. Onward, soldiers.

I hung up the phone, cursing the cheery, friendly, cute secretary, not because she deserved it, but because she was my messenger, and sighed. Then cried (Thank GOD Little Man was downstairs watching the babysitter television), then called Hubby. It went something like this:

Kia: Holy effing shit. What the effing shit am I going to do? I called the school and I can’t go in with him and he’s going to faaaahhh-reak!, and there will be snacks, and teachers and other kids and old teachers and Ican’tgoinwithhimandhe’sgoingtofreaktheeffout HELP ME!!!

Hubby: So just talk to him and explain. He’ll get it. He’s smart.

Kia: But. Snacks. No mommy in the class. Kid. Our kid. Other kids. Teachers. Old. SNACKS!

Hubby: He’s going to have to do it eventually. Just go and get it over with.

Kia: YOU effing do it and get it over with. I quit. I’m working at the office, and you’re being a stay-at-home dad. I can’t DO THIS ANY MORE.

Hubby: Explain it. He’ll get it. Bribe him.

Kia: What did you say?

Hubby: BRIBE HIM.

Kia: Well, duh. Like yeah. Of course. Bribe. Him.

Hubby: Breath, Kia. Let me know how  your talk with him goes.

Kia: Whatever. It’s so going to be hard and shitty and hard. Like hard.

Hubby: I love you.

Kia: Sure you do. Bye.

Panic? Me? Ahem. Like, yes, ok? Have you MET my child?

I had a talk with Little Man. He cried after the first sentence. He hid in the corner of the family room, refused to come out, and said there was no way he was EVER going to school and I so totally couldn’t MAKE him and if I somehow found a way to make him, there was no way he would have fun.

Well, he did (go to school) and I did (make him) and he did (have fun).

The beginning was rocky. There was a lot of bellyaching in the car on the way there. Little Man kept telling me how nervous he was and I kept telling him that I understood and I get nervous too about things that are new or different, but that I really really thought he’d have fun and love the teachers there. Little Man made it clear that he thought I was getting a kick out of torturing him and that he would find a way to make me pay  for this (no, not really), and he, in case I’d forgotten, would NOT have fun.

I took him into the building, where his (old, but spunky) teacher was waiting for us. She let him pick a colour for his name tag and told him that he and the other children were going to put their colours together to make a rainbow, once everyone had chosen a colour.

(I joked with Hubby tonight at dinner that they all did a little nature dance and said lots of “oooommmm’s” and praised the aura in the room by sprinkling each other’s heads with droplets of organic oils. He asked me where I come up with this shit and sighed. Grumpy old fart. Whatevs. I thought I was funny, and really, that’s all that matters. It’s all about me, after all. Lalala.)

Little Man humoured Old Teacher and picked his colour, then looked at me and said, “I’m not going in there and you can’t make me.”

Old Teacher chuckled, told me she’s seen it all before, then told Little Man to kiss me good-bye. He promptly adhered himself to my ass/thigh area and began to wail. Atta boy! Show her what you’re made of! Old Teacher gently, but firmly (apparently it is possible to be gentle and  firm simultaneously) peeled Little Man from my body and ushered him into the classroom.

I had to shuffle some papers  pay up at the office area, so I shuffled away from the classroom door. Old Teacher was wonderful. She called back over her shoulder to me, “Have a good cry mom. I guarantee he’ll be finished with his tears before you’re done with yours.”

She was right.

After paying the tab, I left to do a little sniffling shopping. Due, I think, to my good feelings about this place and the teachers, I was able to bring myself to a real sense of calm while I was shopping. I felt reassured that, even if Little Man didn’t love it right away, this is a good place for him to be and he’d eventually be happy here. It just turns out that eventually  came today. I didn’t have to wait for it.

When I arrived back at the school this afternoon, Old Teacher told me how wonderful my kid is (like, duh!), and that he had a great time and never stopped talking (double duh!), and refused to have snack (triple duh!), but he had a successful first day!

Little Man then came running out of the classroom, all ready to hug and smother me with his loveliness, but looked over his cool shoulder at his classmates and slowed himself down a bit, not wanting to look too much like a Mama’s Boy. What the eff? Where’s my baby?

He played it cool until we got into our car, but I knew he was happy. There was no pout. There were no sighs. He was happy. My boy was HAPP EEEE!!!

I tried not to ask him too much about his day at school. I’ve learned with him that it’s better to let it ride a bit. He’ll tell me things when he’s ready. Not a nano-second sooner. But. But! Halfway home, he casually commented that he really “had fun today and I want to go back to that school and stay there for 46,000 days!”

I call SUCCESS!

Kia

P.S. I know a lot of you were praying and thinking about us today. I really was terrified that this could be a disaster. I truly appreciate your kind words and thoughtfulness. You know who you are and you’re wonderful.

P.P.S. I haven’t closed off the voting yet, so get over HERE and vote, if you haven’t already. I’m going to keep the votes open a little longer until I decide what the prize is going to be!