Though I really can’t understand why the children don’t go back to school until AFTER the Labour Day long weekend, (I mean, really!) I must admit, I’m thrilled to get back to the school schedule.
I don’t love the 7:55 AM start time of the school day, which is ohmygodsofuckingearly, nor do I relish the opportunity to do French homework in the evenings while at the same time making dinner AND keeping the other Little entertained and out of harm’s way, all during the hungry/tired/cranky hour(s) of day. Plus there’s a shitload of karate lessons to schlep to and from… but I think it’s easier than the entertainment juggling mums (and dads) often have to do all summer long. Whether they’re in some sort of day-camp or not, they’re always bored. They’re always hungry. They’re always all up in your grill, telling you how you’re wrecking their young lives. Oy.
So!
I’m happy to report that the child went to school this time without a single tear (from either of us) since, after all, this is his second year at The Big School, and he was eager to see a lot of his friends after the long summer apart. He’s thrilled with all his back-to-school stuff in his new backpack. (That’s the best part of the back-to-school-ness of things, you know – all the cool new stuff. Even if it cost parents a small fortune every year.)
Oliver had been looking forward to entering the first grade since the end of the school year, so it was a surprise to me when a few weeks ago, while visiting family in Toronto, he suddenly burst into tears when asked if he was excited about school starting soon. His face crumpled, and he BURST into tears, sputtering and choking on his HUGE sobs.
“I… just… don’t… WANT… to… go… to… first… grade…” He hid his face in his arm and cried and cried.
His sister lay her head against him and patted his back with one hand. “You jus’ say no FANK-you, Ol’ver… jus’ say no FANK-you.”
(It was really the cutest thing ever.)
I chalked up that mysterious piece of drama to being completely and obscenely overtired from the six-hour drive, plus staying up until nearly 11 PM the day before. You can expect a pretty spectacular meltdown before noon the next day under such circumstances.
So, unlike last year, the child was perfectly fine today. He did ask on the way out the door if it was okay if he cried a little bit when we got there. I told him to shut his whiney cake-hole and to grow a pair already – be a man, and shit.
Just kidding.
I said it would be okay, and that there might be some other kids a bit tearful this morning too… but that really, there’s nothing to be sad about. This is a great day! Big Kid!! Practically a GROWN-UP!! (Enthusiasm is everything, yo.)
And it worked. Moments later, I took this pic:
My big, brave boy. I expect he will be tired and cranky for the next several days – getting back to the early sleep schedule after summer’s too-late bedtime hour of 9 PM is not going to be easy on me for any of us. Madame has hardly napped this summer at all due to her time spent at Camp No-Nap, and the 6:30 AM rise today will render everyone near useless by dinner time tonight, I just know.
Le sigh.
One down… one to go after Labour Day. (JOY!!)
G.G.
