I had concocted this awesome brainchild of an idea to “party” to celebrate my son’s first day in Kindergarten. This entailed party hats, blowers, and a bowling/pizza family night later. It was genius, if I do say so myself. I could hardly wait to get into the car to pick him up.
As soon as we rounded the corner in the parking lot, and the lady with the speaker called out “93”, we saw our son’s little body emerge from the cafeteria with a teacher’s hand, walking over to a lady-in-wait and “station 2” at school. The lady with the speaker motioned as she smiled the number “2” with her fingers as we moved up.
He watched us come closer. I waved furiously, smiling, but he didn’t smile or wave back. I figure he didn’t see me or didn’t want to embarrass himself more than I probably already was. But it was so amazing to see his little baby-yet-big-boy face.
As we pulled up to “station 2” I threw open the door with a Power Rangers party hat and party blower with metallic ribbons flowing out as I tooted to him. “Yay, congratulations baby!! You did it!”I cheered as he gawked at me as though I had three heads.
“What? Uh, mommy, who’s birfday is it?”
I giggled. “No one’s, silly! This is your ‘Congratulations for going to Kindergarten’ party!”
As I buckled him, barreling him with question-after-question without breathing a single breath in between, the “station” lady talked with my husband about how we were apparently doing something wrong, it being our first time at this school and everything, but I didn’t hear her or pay attention, I was so ridiculously happy to be buckling my boy into his seat. His sister kept calling to him, in between toots with her blower. The baby was feasting on his delicious party hat as I peeled myself away from my kindergartner long enough to fumble into the front passenger seat so hubby could drive off.
“So? Tell me, how was your day? How was your teacher? Did you meet anybody? Did you color me a picture? Did you…”
{Deep breath}
{Like it was my first breath in hours}
He was very non-descriptive in his responses. It was a let down. “It was good.” or “I drew a beaver,” or even worse, is when he couldn’t remember.
“What story did you read today?”
“Uh, I don’t wee-member.”
What!? How do you not remember!? I was feeling cheated, and anxious, and OhMyGoodness he had to recall his entire day for me, start to finish, because Imissedhimsomuch ahhhhhhh
My husband interjected a bit, getting me to dial my spazzed-out mom-ness down a bit. Little did we know what stealth-like business was happening in the backseat until we heard it. The snore.
I turned my head and almost cried.
Such a long day for such a little dude. He didn’t even make it home.
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