I’ve been counting down the minutes until the kids go to school tomorrow.
So have the girls. They are super excited.
But Number 6 is fighting it every step of the way.
Every morning he wakes up, asks how many more days there are until school starts, and then as soon as I tell him, he starts bawling.
“I DON’T WANT TO GO TO SCHOOOOOOOOOOOL!!!!!” he cries. “I’M SCAAAAAAAAAAAARED!!!” he screams.
The same thing happened this morning.
He’s going to the same school as last year. He’s on the same bus with the same bus driver, who he loves to death. Number 5 has moved up to a new school, but Number 7 will be on the bus with him, so he won’t be going to school alone.
I asked him what he was afraid of.
“MOMMY, snort ILOVEYOUSOMUCH snort WHAT IF I MISS YOU SO MUCH snort AND I START CRYING WHEN I’M AT SCHOOL snortsnortsnort ???”
Mom removes knife from heart.
Every instance where I wanted to strangle him in the last few weeks, (and there have been dozens of them) immediately vanished.
My poor little guy.
I started to go into panic mode.
But only for a second. Then I reminded myself of how he started last year, and I snapped back to reality.
I reminded myself that he’s kind of a mamma’s boy and he knows how to get to me and that he also adjusted just fine to kindergarten last year.
Today was the first grade orientation where the first graders can go into the building just for a half hour, meet their teachers, and see where their classrooms are.
Number 6 entered the building feeling shy and unsure.
And then we met his teacher.
She’s super cute and young and cool, and I’m happy, because I know he’s gonna learn stuff, but really I just want him to have a teacher that he loves and I feel good about this one.
And when she told him that one of his buddies from last year was in his class, his eyes really lit up.
Then we walked to his classroom and discovered it was the same room Number 5 was in last year, and then he was psyched.
And then when he saw the gym teacher, well, that put him over the edge.
I know Number 7 is the baby, and she’s the one starting kindergarten this year, but it’s Number 6 who always really gets to me.
Something about a mom and her youngest boy, I guess.
On the way home I promised him we’d read The Kissing Hand to help him feel better tomorrow.
But what he doesn’t realize is that I’m really reading it for myself more than I’m reading it for him.
And I know he’s gonna be just fine.
I am that way with my middle boy. Maybe because I was the middle child too.