The morning was great.
He got up, got dressed, and even brushed his teeth without my having to ask.
The excitement and anxiety was getting the best of him so breakfast was a bust. He decided on some yogurt and water. That’s fine. That’s what I would choose, too.
He moseyed into school, tall and confident, saying hi to everyone he passed. That’s my little social butterfly (read: class clown) who never meets a stranger, but if he does, he turns them into a friend.
With a quick wave goodbye, he was off to start third grade.
THIRD GRADE? Stop it!
If only I could stop time. Or at least pause it.
I spent the day at work wondering if he was having fun or not. Was he getting in trouble for talking too much? Was he fidgeting in his seat or being impulsive? Was he hungry or tired?
I knew all the answers, because when he’s with others, he doesn’t get in trouble for talking too much (most of the time) and he doesn’t fidget too much in his seat. He doesn’t have to eat every 3 minutes and he would never act like he needed a nap.
Picking him up at his after school program, he reported that the day was “great! And I like my teacher, but not as much as Miss F in first grade. Nobody even got their clips flipped and the class didn’t get in trouble one single time.”
I’d call that a success, wouldn’t you?
NOT SO FAST MY FRIENDS!
It was all fine and dandy til the homework folder came out.
Even though the math homework for the night was kinda optional, it was still going to get done. BUT THE TEARS! (Whose, you ask? Uh, his? Mine? Both?)
I’m speechless. In spite of my making a cute little chart that has rewards and everything tied to doing his best and not arguing and not making either of us cry, we succeeded in crying on the first night of school.
I mean, come on. How do you get your child to do homework without tears? Because we can’t do this every night. We just can’t.