Adelaide's first day of Kindergarten, she was half excited, half anxious, wanted to stand at the very back of the line of kids at the bus stop, and would not allow me to leave her side as the other kids embarked and the line slowly moved forward. When we reached the steps and it was her turn, she decided that Nope, Kindergarten wasn't for her, thanks anyway. I had to go up the steps with her, and while the driver very kindly offered to let me sit with her while he looped around before dropping me back off, once Adelaide was on there and spotted an open seat, she was okay. She sat down, I got off the bus, and away she went.
We watched the video Derek was shooting of this whole thing a couple weeks ago. You can tell the exact moment she realizes this was a terrible, terrible idea, as she tries to awkwardly back away, looking more like a dog being dragged into a car on its way to the vet than anything else.
Over the past couple weeks Atticus has at random times quietly stated, "I'm scared about Kindergarten," into empty moments in our day. Our elder son has a substantial streak of bravery running through him (years of attempting to survive night terrors?), so while I figured the whole thing would be easier than it was for Adelaide, I still worried a little about how he was going to feel on this first of many, many whole days away from me.
6:30 this morning, I woke the two A's up. They tumbled out of bed, excited for the day, and were immediately drawn first to their bedroom windows. There was a kind of diffused yellow, buttery pre-thunderstorm cast to the dawn, and it was beautiful. It felt like a gift, a new mercy waiting for us, and the perfect beginning to this day of Beginnings.
Atticus has had trouble remembering his teacher's name over the past couple days, and spent his time getting dressed muttering, "Upah, Upah, Upah, Upah," under his breath.
This may have made me increasingly nervous for him except for the fact that he spent the next 45 minutes exclaiming "I'm SO excited," and eating breakfast and "I'm SO excited" and brushing his teeth and "I'm SO excited."
|In the car on the way to the bus stop, and he's SO excited. She's reading.|
We were the first ones at the bus stop, Adelaide and Atticus were the first in line. Well, and Caedmon, who probably would have marched right onto the bus, too, had we not kept a sharp eye on him.
When the bus arrived, Atticus prodded-pushed-shoved his sister toward the bus and up the steps, quickly ascending right behind her, the extreme opposite of what she had done three Augusts ago. Derek and I had both reminded Adelaide that she was to sit next to her brother on the bus, even if her friends wanted to sit beside her. We watched her walk quickly down the aisle and sit in a seat, then we watched Atticus keep right on going and sit in a separate seat of his own, turning eagerly to wave and grin hugely at us out the window. We grinned and waved right back. I couldn't see Adelaide in her seat on the opposite side of the bus. She was probably reading again already.
Then the bus drove on, carrying them away from us.
Derek looked down at our Caedmon and said, "I don't know, bud, I think Mommy may really cry when you go to Kindergarten." Then he looked at my face, asked, "Are you crying?" and laughed at me. I wasn't weeping in abject despair or anything, I just had something in my eye. Like a tear. Or two.
I mean, our five-year-old didn't have to be that excited to leave me, did he?
I am glad he was so pumped to start school, and satisfied with Adelaide's tolerance for school. I'm hoping Atticus's enthusiasm doesn't wane anytime soon, and that Adelaide remembers learning is fun and dives into third grade.
42 minutes 'til we go get them from the bus stop. Not that I'm counting, or anything.
UPDATE: How did each of their first days go?