Birthdays and the first day of school. They come every year and every year, they are a poignant reminder that our wee things are getting older and will one day become…
Wait for it…
When Nikki had her first day of senior kindergarten at our local public school (junior had been spent at a Montessori school), I was scared. I think I sat on the porch and waited with bated breath until 3:10, when I could go back to collect her. To be honest, I don’t remember much about that day except being scared and crying. Me, not her.
Fast forward to this year and she walked into grade 3 like a pro. I’m calmer too—only a little, mind you—but part of the reason that I’m calmer is that I know she can handle herself. She can ask questions and figure things out and doesn’t need me to hold her hand for every little thing.
This is in sharp contrast to the mom I heard go by my house after drop off, this morning. I was in the backyard and heard her from yards away. The poor woman was sobbing into a cell phone, and I caught a few words between heaves and sobs:
THAT teacher told me that it was time for me to leave. And I’m like ‘but nobody is comforting my child!’
More sobbing… and she was gone.
Dropping off your kid on the first day of school, for the first time, is one of the hardest things we do as parents. I wanted to tell this mom that it gets easier. That kids adapt quickly and hers will be fine too. Not that she would have believed me.
Here’s to hoping that the first day of school at your house was smooth sailing. Cheers!