This could be the Longest. Year. Of. Pwe. School. Evuh.

When you are the youngest of seven, you have to learn how to fend for yourself.

You have to learn how to stand up to your older brothers and sisters.

You have to learn how to make yourself be heard.

Those things aren’t really that hard for Number 7.

When you are the youngest, it can be pretty easy to get your way.

And when you are born with a whole lot of personality to begin with, that makes things even easier.

Number 7 usually finds a way to get what she wants.

 

No matter what she has to do to get it.

So being heard and getting attention is pretty easy for her.

But being alone?

Not so much.

Number 7 is used to always having at least one other sibling around.

As long as she has a member of her posse, she’s good.

But when they are gone and it’s just her, well, that’s a whole different story.

Last Wednesday we had preschool orientation.

That’s when you go into the classroom with your child for about an hour to check things out and so they can see the classroom and see the other kids and just get their toes wet.

Number 7 wouldn’t venture more than a step of two from my side.

She was timid and hesitant and quiet.

I checked out the other kids in the class.

There were a couple who were going to give Mrs. B, the teacher, a run for her money.

I saw some screaming and some yelling and some throwing from a couple boys, and consequently I found myself feeling pretty good about Number 7.

She wouldn’t be the worst kid in the class.

Not even close!

So last Friday, on the first day of preschool, I was a little nervous.

Even though that morning she had announced that she was going to be a big girl and that she wasn’t going to cwy, I was pretty certain she would be a wreck.

I walked her down to the classroom, watched her wash her hands, gave her a kiss and a hug, and waited for her to totally lose it…

And then…

…nothing.

Nothing!

I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

I guess I was mostly relieved.

But what the hell?

Not even any hesitation???

She went right for the Play-dough, and that was that.

So there was one person bawling that morning, but it wasn’t Number 7.

I convulsed my way down the hallway and out to the car.

After I had composed myself, I was thankful she was happy.

Number 6 had cried for the first two months of drop offs, and that wasn’t much fun for anyone.

So when I came back to pick her up three hours later at noon, I couldn’t wait to hear all about her day.

I walked into the classroom, and there she was.

Completely hysterical.

Fuck.

So much for being happy.

One of the assistant teachers just kind of looked at me like there was something wrong with Number 7.

I assured her there was nothing wrong.

That I wasn’t surprised.

That she’s got the stamina of an ultra marathoner, and that this is just the beginning.

Unfortunately she hadn’t ever had the pleasure of being one of  Number 4’s teachers.

If she had, then maybe she’d understand.

Sooo… I took Number 7 home.

Later that night, we went to Number 3’s baseball practice.

Mrs. B has a son on Number 3’s team. She also had Number 6 in her class last year, and she reads the blog, so she kind of knows what she’s getting herself into with respect to Number 7.

When Mrs. B saw me she jokingly said, “You might not want to tell Number 7 that I’m here.”

While Number 3 practiced, the rest of the kids went over to the playground.

I sat my chair down next to Mrs. B and we talked about the day a little bit.

After a little while, Number 6 came over and said hello.

He and Mrs. B caught up.

And then Number 7 came over to my chair.

Mrs. B gave her a big smile and a hello.

Number 7  took one look at Mrs. B and buried her head in my shoulder.

She looked up again for a second, dropped her head back down, and said,

“Stop looking at me.”

Great.

I just looked at Mrs. B and apologetically shrugged.

I told her how I had sat in her classroom that Wednesday of orientation in complete and total judgement of all the other students.

How I had determined which kids in her class were going to be the biggest pains in the ass.

I had neglected to put my own child on that list.

Well, maybe Number 7 just needed a day.

Maybe she’d feel differently tomorrow.

So yesterday, at Number 3’s first game of the season, we saw Mrs. B again.

And when Number 7 saw her…

…she said…

…Hello.

And she waved!

YES!

I was in the clear.

And after giving her teacher such a nice greeting,

and giving me a tremendous feeling of relief,

Number 7 looked up at me and said,

“I. AM. NEVUH. EVUH. GO. ING. TO. PWE. SCHOOL. A. GAIN.”

 

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