This summer while we were watching the women’s Olympic gymnastics, Sydney said with a furrowed little
brow, “Mom, I don’t think those girls have mommies and daddies.” I guess she
was envisioning this as some sad show of orphaned girls performing for
audiences. I asked her why she thought they didn’t have parents and she
replied, “Because they aren’t there! I don’t see them anywhere!” For Sydney’s
first 5 ½ years, her reality was that Mom or Dad was always there. Yes, she
went to pre-school two, then three times a week and we left her with Grandma or
a babysitter from time to time, but her main reality was our presence. Last
spring, she didn’t like ballet because she went into the studio alone, behind
closed doors. She said she just wanted to be with her family. So, with starting
kindergarten this week, even though it’s only 3 hours a day, her world has
shifted to one more like those gymnasts; mommy and daddy aren’t quite as
visibly present.
On the big day, she was dressed and ready to go, backpack
on, by 8:30, even though we didn’t need to leave until 12:30 or so. Luckily,
our good friends came over with first day of school treats for the kids and
they had new school supplies, big fun cones and treats to distract them for a
few hours.
We were able to walk to school together the first day, just the two
of us, and the teacher was kind enough to have parents stay for that first
short day. As we walked along hand-in-hand, her little grip getting tighter and
tighter as we neared the building, I told her that part of the reason I make
her a first day of school dress is so if she feels a little bit scared or sad,
she can look down at her dress and remember how much her mommy loves her. She
brought our hands to her cheek and said, “awh. Mom, you’re going to make me
cry.” Of course, I barely made it through that sentence without my own voice
cracking.
A few minutes later, we ran into her little buddy on the
walking path beside the school and they literally ran into each other’s arms,
backpacks flying behind them and I finally got a first day of school picture
with her big, real smile. After that she was fine, even when the parents all
went into a different room for info and she played sorting games. (I could
write a whole other essay about how much I love her teacher, especially because
she answered every little question that had been rolling around in my head,
without me ever having to ask and she coached us all on getting through the
first drop off. But I’ll save my love note to Mrs. B. for another day.)
We walked home hand in hand again, but she was so excited
that as we neared home, she took off running and flying her arms ahead of me.
That’s the picture I want to keep in my mind about her first day of
school. Her gleefully letting go of my hand and trying to fly.
When it came time for pre-school registration last spring, I did not feel at all like Elias was ready for pre-school. He seemed so small and I was worried he couldn't communicate well enough to be on his own. But, my friend counseled me to sign him up anyway in case he seemed ready in the fall. Good thing, because in the last few weeks he has seemed so ready for something of his own. He's never really cared about what Sydney was up to and was completely content to pal around with me until the past few weeks when he caught a case of the "me too"s. He too wanted a backpack, he too wanted to go to school, he too wanted to sign up for soccer and he too wanted me to sew something special for his first day. He asked for a shirt, but I don't know how to make a little man shirt, so we went with a new hat (that he of course chose not to wear after all). 
