I think it was when we had to pull over halfway up the Williamsburg Bridge to move Simon from one bike to the other lest he maul his brother that I realized that our “first day of school” dream was turning rather sour.
The boy yelled and screamed until we go to school. He declared that he wasn’t going to school and clung to me like a baby koala until I forcibly removed him from my body and he ran to follow his class into the school.
After that, Micah and I held our breaths until we had to drop Oliver off for his 90 minute first day of kindergarten. He, at least, performed his part perfectly, waving like a champ as he walked up the ramp at the back of the line, the smallest kid in the class.
But when we hovering parents were invited to come see the kindergarten classroom an hour later and we saw Oliver’s picture that indicated that he had been scared about his first day, it occurred to me that he had also been inadequately prepared.
Of course, we were on pins and needles all day wondering how Simon was getting on. At pickup, however, he seemed to have some amnesia about the morning. And he needed very little encouragement to spend an hour playing tag with a boy in his class who is new to the school this year.
I know we got off on the wrong foot this year, but with a little dancing, I think we’ll be past this rough patch before too long.