Kindergarten: Day Three
The boy got on the right bus on the way home, and got off at the right stop. We have a successfully completed Mission: Kindergarten Integration. (Achievements unlocked: School Bus Passenger, Elementary School Kid. Rating: Awesome.)
Reports from the boy have included:
-
“The bus ride was REALLY AWESOME! It was bumpy, because there were lot of bumps.”
“I sat with another boy.” ( “Can you tell us his name?” “No, because I didn’t ask.” “Tomorrow, tell him your name, then ask his.” “Okay!”)
“I sat with the boy again! He let me sit next to the window!” ( “What is his name?” “Well, I can’t tell you, because I asked, but I forgot it.”)
“We saw all the offices! And met all the people! And Mr. Chris is our gym teacher!”
“There’s a girl in my class!” (Yes indeed, and there ought to be more when both halves of the class are together for the first time on Monday.)
“Mama, Mama, when we sit for circle time we do a hop and kick and cross your legs!” (When he tried to demonstrate, he almost fell over when his legs tangled.)
Goodbyes have been conducted with vigorous waving, and so have hellos, complete with smiles. Indeed, this child has had zero problems with new school, new teacher, and new friends. And yes, he refers to everyone as his new friends, and I wish that as an adult we still had that outlook. Tuesday is his first full day, which should be interesting for everyone.
As for the house, the first round of painting is complete; the downstairs hallway will get done when we build the new stairway and repaint the current one. There is art on the walls of all rooms but our bedroom and my office (my collage wall takes a while; I’ll have key pieces up by the end of the weekend). HRH is off picking up a secondhand bentwood and wicker settee for the living room, which will do for now until (if) I find something small and light enough to replace it. The heavy vertical blinds have been removed from the kitchen, living room, and my office, replaced by our light bamboo blinds and in my office a light green linen curtain. The pot rack is up (the ceiling is plaster and lathes!), and HRH has moved the hinge from one side of the fridge to the other. Hilarity has ensued as all of us continue to reach for the old side and come up short.
It’s Friday night, so it’s homemade pizza night. Off I go to mix up the dough.
Kindergarten: Day Two
First time on the school bus!
Just like he’d done when going to preschool for the first time, he bounded away and I had to call him back for a hug. HRH and I watched the bus pull out, the boy’s face sporting a big grin as he took his seat; we waved madly as the bus went down the street, and yes, I felt that wrench.
I didn’t cry till forty minutes later on the highway on the way to do groceries, though. And I sat there at a red light with tears on my face, wondering why. I think it has to do with the huge step he’s taking, going somewhere on his own and making his own way through new situations. I can empathise with the enormity of that, and how overwhelming it can be at times when you least expect it. Getting on that bus for the first time symbolizes quite a lot. He is strong and cheerful and brave and social, and I don’t anticipate problems with him adjusting at all, although I fully expect his sensitivity will raise a few interesting questions about the other children’s behaviour. He’s already having a fabulous time with the whole idea of the bus and school, and eager to meet new friends.
I’ll pick him up from his half-day at lunch, and I expect to hear a lot of enthusiastic but slightly garbled reports.
Kindergarten: Day One
Five loads of laundry Tuesday night, three yesterday, two today. I know, my life is so scintillating. The washer seems to use warm water when set on cold, though, and vice versa. One suspects the inlet hoses were reversed between the source pipes and the machine intakes during installation. One must tactfully suggest this to the resident installer and request a fix. [ETA: Ah. Turns out the cold water intake on the machine was marked with red. I’d have absolutely been with HRH, then, in assuming that was the hot intake. Problem solved.]
I am suffering from the worst allergies I’ve had in ages, which is saying something because I used to get weekly allergy shots to combat them. I know I’m in a new geographic location and every region has its own pollen profile to which one must accustom oneself, but this is awful. I’m not alone, though; it seems to be hitting across the board in southern Quebec. I’ve lost track of how many allergy pills I’ve taken and when, which is not the most ideal of situations. My sinuses and throat are grumpy, grumpy customers, and my temper’s not the best, either.
Speaking of which, I was feeling rather guilty that I had the boy home for all of four days and was already looking forward to school beginning. The prep, the packing, the move, and the unpacking drained me of energy and cope, and the poor kid, who has actually been in a fabulous mood, has been bearing the brunt of it. We’ve had a few I’ll-finish-this-then-play-with-you, Mama-Mama-Mama-Mama, I-TOLD-you-I’d-be-there-when-I-was-finished-you’re-just-making-it-take-longer moments, but both of us have emerged relatively unscathed. We’re in the middle of an honest to goodness heatwave, and the boy inevitably selects the high-heat part of the day for playing outdoors. But the basement is cool, the DVDs are my friend while I finish the last of the unpacking, and we’ve run errands each day as well that get us out of the house.
We asked the delivery guys to leave us one of the appliance boxes. The boy played with one in the backyard all yesterday afternoon. I cut a door and a window for him, and he dragged it under the lilacs behind the play structure and used it as a command module. Eventually it got dragged forward to the end of the slide and he slid into it for a while, crowing with his unique giggle. Hours of amusement in a cardboard box.
Today was Day One of the three-day progressive entry for kindergarten. We packed up all our school supplies in the boy’s new backpack and met his new teacher and a third of his classmates for an hour. Tomorrow he takes the school bus in and I meet him at lunch to take him home, and on Friday I take him in after lunch and he buses back. There are seventeen kids in his class, twelve of them boys. Mrs Lisa, his teacher, said brightly that it was going to be an… active class, and all the parents snickered. He’s already seeing the other boys as his friends, and at least two of them are on his bus, so that will help. (One of these co-bus passengers has his full name, and the other his nickname, so we three mums are already foreseeing a little trio of proper noun terror happening.) It was interesting to watch the small group of boys explore the classroom while the teacher explained some of the routine to us. They were given their choice of four activities, and they all headed for the Lego and cars without hesitation. After fifteen minutes of that, the boy got up and moved to the book corner where he sat down in one of the comfy chairs and opened a book. One by one the other boys followed. After fifteen minutes in the book corner he moved back to the Lego, then to explore the play kitchen area, and he was followed again. He ended up back at the book corner while two boys rummaged through the play kitchen, one boy went to read as well, and one went back to the Lego. It was nice to see that he felt comfortable and confident enough to move on when he felt like it, and not wait for someone else to demonstrate that it was okay. It was also reassuring to see that he was taking his time, too, settling down to involve himself in each activity for a decent block of time instead of running from one to the other. He got to play in the playground afterwards, too, and one of the boys stopped by with his dad on their way down the street, and the boys did a few circuits of the play structure together, and waved and shouted goodbyes when they left in their respective cars. All in all, it was a terrific experience.
I took him to Tim Hortons for lunch as a treat, and we shared a ham and cheese sandwich. He downed his carton of milk in one go. I think I’m going to have to buy a cow. Or perhaps shares in a dairy farm.
The obligatory photos:
That’s a double thumbs up from the kindergartener as we head off.
Tomorrow is Day Two: The Bus Trip To School.
Point-Form Randomness
1. We have a washer and dryer being delivered on Monday. HRH will hook them up that night, and then Tuesday? Tuesday I will revel in washing towels made filthy by the move and the post-move week. Probably just in time to find the box of extra towels and sheets somewhere.
2. HRH is assembling the BBQ. His dad went all out: there’s a propane tank, lava rocks, and charcoal, plus an extra grill to put in above the main grill. I should probably root about in the freezer and find something for supper, shouldn’t I.
3. I finally got to sort all the boxes of baby clothes. I dragged them all out of storage and sat outside on the grass while the boy played, separating things into piles to donate to the Compassion people, and a pile of Keep Because It’s Awesome (I cannot give away any of the things with foxes or trains on them that my mum got from Gymboree, I just can’t). So tiny! I handed the boy his first pair of Robeez slipper shoes and they were smaller than his hand. I cut things down to a third of what we’d had. The boy sorted through the box of baby toys, too, quality-testing everything for Ada when she visits. (He also voluntarily sorted my pincushion for me that morning. Very helpful indeed.)
4. HRH painted the kitchen last night. All of it. Both coats. And he freehanded the trim. The man’s a miracle, I tell you. Apparently tonight’s the hallway.
5. The boy’s last day of preschool was fine. I think it was harder on us and his educator than on him. They did their best to make it a regular day, and they sent him home with a box that proved to have his three favourite toys in it (including the black and white stuffed cat he called Maggie that the educator had to actually separate him from early on because he was getting too attached to it); a photo of him, his best friend, and their educator; and the name tag from his Superman naptime mat. We were very touched. HRH said he was going to miss them, and no wonder; he saw them twice a day for two years, spent a lot of time talking with them morning and afternoon, and we shared the raising of our child with them, after all.
6. Our first visit to the local ice cream parlour last night (recommended to us by the preschool!) was incredible. HRH had maple ice cream that had real tire and maple sugar nuggets in it. I had espresso ice cream that had shards of good chocolate and crushed coffee beans in it. The boy revelled in sickly-sweet Rolo ice cream. Apparently they close for the fall and winter, and that date’s coming up in mid-September. Sounds like we’re going to have to get a lot of ice cream visits in over the next two weeks.
7. Gryffindor has finally gotten over his fear of the stairs and now runs up and down with us. He’s not entirely comfortable in the house yet, though; he’ll often sit in the storey we’re not in and yowl until we call him to us. The girls are fine and have been since day two.
8. My stamina is shrinking by the day. Now I can only go for brief bursts of unpacking and rearranging before I fall over. It’s very frustrating.
Okay, enough. Now beer, and watching HRH assemble the BBQ.
Last Day
It’s the boy’s last day of preschool today.
I’ve known this was coming all week. I was preparing for it, doing the last of the kindergarten shopping, scheduling the gift-buying for his educator, and so forth. But it wasn’t until last night when we picked him up and they told us that it was going to be an end-of-summer fiesta/birthday for one of the kids/our boy’s farewell party that it really hit me. One last drop-off; one last pick-up.
I’m going to miss them. They’re fabulous people, and they’ve done wonderful work with the boy. Numbers, letters, songs, attention span and focus, helping out, French, socialization, skills and techniques; they know their stuff. Even though he’s not officially attending after today, now that we’re in the neighbourhood I know that we’ll see them often enough. Heck, they’re coming to our housewarming party; I think we’re booked to help stain their fence next spring. The boy has an open invitation to hang out on any Friday night at the new TGIF for kids thing they’re doing outside of the regular daycare hours to give parents a night off for themselves or to run errands without handling a squirmy child (and upon being told that there would be Friday night babysitting available, all the kids planned for a pyjama night there with pizza at some point amongst themselves and informed the educator). And they’ve stressed that we have an open invitation to drop by after school any time, which just happens to be across the street.
The boy is excited. He’s been looking forward to the party today (there is a pinata and he is determined to be the one to whack it open), and he’s excited about kindergarten next week. He did a lovely picture for his educator at the kitchen table this morning, with great printing (look at that spacing!) and a picture of a robot, his car and trailer, and a robot bug ( “But not a bad robot bug,” he said to me. “It doesn’t sting or bite.” “I know it’s a good robot bug,” I said, “because you’ve put a smile on it.”).
He’s grown so much over the past two years there. About a year ago his main educator told HRH that if she got him through to kindergarten without having to take him to the hospital with a broken bone she wanted a medal. Well, we haven’t gotten her a medal; we think we’ve done something better. We’re going to present her with a gift certificate for the nearby Spa Strom so she can treat herself to a day of relaxation and pampering. We figure she totally deserves it after corralling him for twenty-four months, along with ten other kids.
Tonight we’re having a special dinner to celebrate the end of preschool: steak, roast potatoes, steamed broccoli with cheese sauce, and we’ll walk to the nearby ice cream parlour (recommended by his educator!) for a dessert treat. Next week we have two days off together, and then an hour-long private meeting with his new teacher on Wednesday, a morning half-day on Thursday where he’ll take the bus in and I’ll pick him up at lunch, and an afternoon half-day on Friday where I’ll drop him off after lunch and the bus will bring him home. On one of those days we’ll go get new library cards from the local branch, and stop to play at the big playground we pass that’s halfway between school and home.
First days are hard. But so are last days. Sometimes, though, you don’t realise it for a little while.
