I’m excited, but I’m a little nervous, Barrett said to me. We were discussing Kindergarten RoundUp. As we walked. And he was sharing his feelings. Because we’re big on that whole kumbaya-touchy-feely-stuff around here {yes. even though we have three boys … hopefully you can read me rolling my eyes}.
It’s okay to be nervous, I told him.
…………
When he wouldn’t break-it-on-down with me Hammer style to Can’t Touch This while en route this morning, I knew something was awry.
What’s up, B? I asked.
He muttered, I’m scared.
Add this to the list of things you don’t expect as a mom. This boy. Our very social. Very curious. Been in pre-school for three years. That boy. I did not anticipate any qualms on his part. But I was happy he was sharing.
And then. We walked in. And I took one look at his face. His eyes welled up. And he buried his head in my vest.
Oh. I was not expecting this. I thought.
And then. Because my usually confident, social, curious, in-pre-school-for-three-years boy was crying, I felt warmth heat my face. And my eyes…was someone peeling onions. Surely someone is peeling onions. I saw the Counselor and Principal exchange glances. And I knew we’d been marked. The Counselor came over and introduced herself to him. His face, splotched, he introduced himself to her. And she took his hand. And they were off. He gave me one last look. And as soon as he turned away, I bolted for the door.
I had to get out of there. And not look back.
Rip the bandaid. This so isn’t you, I thought.
I walked out and the wind hit my eyes making me aware that my tears were still hanging on. Hanging in.
As I turned the ignition, Kids Place Live contributed to the soundtrack of the situation playing, Let it go. And not the crap Demi Lovato version {nothing but love Demi. It’s just not the same}. The real deal Idina version.
REALLY?! REALLY?! You had to play Let it Go?!
And I drove away. And around briefly. I had a little save-the-mascara cry. Including sniffles. Snorts. And deep breaths. Called my mom. And got home and shared the story with my mother-in-law. And texted a friend. Who’d been here. Done this. Has the t-shirt.
And I couldn’t figured out why I was so bothered at first. Because it’s not really my parenting style. Not that I’m not nurturing. But I’m a little no-nonsense. But I knew he wasn’t being dramatic. He was just being him. And because I genuinely know him. Because he’s no longer the baby that I held through incessant 6 hour scream benders. He’s a 5 year old who I know almost entirely inside and out. He’s our 5 year old. And we’re handing him off. In the fall. But it was set in motion today. And he was scared. And nervous. And I can’t say I blame him.
And I had to tell I myself, Let it go. This is not the end. But only the beginning. Let it go.
…………
I picked him up. It was apparent there had been more tears. One teacher told me he’d recovered, eventually. He told me he didn’t like it at first. But now he loves Kindergarten. And he’s ready to be done with pre–school.
He’s already moved on. Even though I was stuck in the moment. And reality hits. I can’t and won’t be there for every moment. It’s not like I have been to-date. But I’ve been there a good chunk of it. And when he goes to school, he will be there nearly as much, if not more than he’s at home. And that’s a little stomach churning. Because he’s 5.
So even though we’ll never let him go, I’m going to be learning to let it go. When the moment has to happen to propel life forward. To make him the man he will someday be. Let it go.
Let it go.
He’s not even there yet. And he loves Kindergarten. Already.
