It Must Be A Boy Thing

Little Squirt and I have fallen into a comfortable Kindergarten routine. I take him to school in the morning, where he lays his backpack on his classroom number, and then heads to the playground until the bell rings. Then I tearfully watch as he lines up with his class behind his teacher (I am such a wimp) and proceeds into the building. Occasionally he will turn around to look for me, giving me a subtle wave. “Good-bye, my baby.”

And then I have 2 1/2 hours all to myself, for the first time ever, since I became a mother of three. I am like a hamster running in its ball; free, but not entirely. I don’t usually have a set destination. I kind of just go with the flow.

And then I’m back at his school by 11:30, lining up with all the other cars that will soon fill with kindergarteners. I park by the area of the sidewalk with Little Squirt’s assigned number, and soon see him and his ginormous smile, accompanied by an even ginormous-er backpack. I am careful not to pepper him with questions as he enters the car. The kindergarten staff has advised us not to interrogate them. They’ll tell their stories in their own way, they said. So I hold back, instead asking him his lunch preference.

We shared spaghettios and fruit today, as I read him the next chapter of “Ribsy.” Then, relaxed and satiated, he was ready to enlighten me on his morning. “Mom, guess what good thing happened to me today?” he said. Ahhhh. I loved these moments. The sharing, the bonding, my eyes opening to the various ways my youngest was experiencing life and learning.
“What, sweetie?” I asked lovingly.
“I farted in school.” ………………. Charming, isn’t he??