If He Only Knew How Lucky

Someday I’m going to print these posts and hand-deliver them to the boys: here’s your baby book, kids!

Yesterday, Kindergarten, Day 1. I read all the various checklists on how to transition to kindergarten.

I never listened to The Colbert Report’s segment on our school board within earshot. Okay, I probably talked about my issues with public instruction in front of him too many times, but he eavesdrops, cut me some slack.

He picked out his bookbag (spiderman) and his lunch bag (ninja). I picked out clothes based on his specifications (shirts with buttons AND a pocket), and JB took him shoe shopping.

Do I have a smart kid? Yeah, dude. Did I work very hard to somehow make him this way? That’s up for debate– I don’t consider my efforts qualify as working hard. Most days feel like I’m barely scraping out above my personal lowest-acceptable-parenting-bar. But, unlike any of the rest of domestic duties, I set that parenting bar pretty high.

Honestly, as a person with a brain rocking it colander-style, I’m jealous at how he manages to hold so much in working memory.

Last year we sent him to an excellent preschool, with an amazing staff. His expectations of school were based in what he knows (cue amazing preschool) and the clues he’s gotten from adults.

Think about most of the conversations that children have with adults-not-their-parent(s):

    What grade are you in?
    Kindergarten is going to be so much fun!
    You are so smart, you are going to love school!

That’s a lot of hype for someone with zero personal experience.

Anyway, there was a picking up incident (hey, did you know class let’s out before the time printed as school dismissal? I do NOW). Considering the epic fail of the buses, I guess we got off lucky.

I need to sidebar for a minute.

My college roommate, and also the mom of a brand-new kindergartner, majored in child development. Surprise- a child’s brain is markedly different from an adult– even when they first start walking! /rolling my eyes/

To watch your child and confidently categorize their (what appears to be) nonsensical behavior based on scientifically-supported theory? It goes a long way from making me go insane on their little psyches.

I read a lot of Dr. Brazelton. He’s the only parenting expert that motivated me to purchase his books for further reference. Because of him I know that my oldest son’s mind lives in the world of magical ponies farting full-spectrum fairy dust. The same son truly believes that wishing hard enough will result in the morning arrival of closet pony, blissfully chewing on full-spectrum oats.

Imagine the crushing disappointment of waking up to a closet full of clothes, but no oat-eating, closet pony? Have you ever woken up thinking it was Sunday, only to realize it was actually Monday? Yeah that, times a gazillion.

To put it further into perspective, I’m guessing that the average 5 year old, and the Whoops, no Rapture adults are about the same on the emotional maturity scale.

Sidebar done.

The main points of his day were that they sat too much and missed recess because of the rain. Oh, and:

Kindergarten, in his not-at-all humble opinion, is an epic waste of time. Today, that disappointment translated into a big bowl full of 5-year-old bullshit.

This is where he’s lucky (hey, future, older version of Zach– you paying attention here?) Did he get yelled at a lot today? Well, yeah- that stuff cannot stand, man. Was I sympathetic to his need to break every rule like… I don’t even know.

Sympathetic, yes. Tolerant, no.

He tested limits like being a limit-tester paid in cold-hard cash.

Today. Today will be a better day.