Last Wednesday, armed with the tiniest backpack I've ever seen, my second-born son started kindergarten. I won't say that I danced for joy, but I won't say that I didn't, either. He's a smart kid -- he's been ready for school since age 3.
He'd asked me, the day before it all began, if he could simply take his Power Wheels to school. I had to veto it only because it would mean he'd have to cross the road going 0.2 miles an hour and, frankly, parking at his school is a BITCH.
Off to school we went, the first day, armed with a backpack and high hopes ...
He scampered off into his classroom with nary a look backward, which was nice, because the kid's a bona fide Mama's Boy and I figured there'd be tears and long, drawn-out goodbyes, but nope. Not this one.
I had scarely gotten home before it was time to return to school to pick the little guy up.
"Hey," I said to him after he ran over into my arms. "How was school?"
"Mommy," Alex said, eyes as large as dinner plates. "It was AMAZING." I laughed a little -- my happy at an all-time high, partially from relief that he'd had a great first day, and partially because he was so damn excited about it.
We got into the car where he sucked down the drink I'd brought him and we talked a little bit about what he'd done for the 15 minutes he'd been at school (okay, three hours), and he positively glowed about the drinking fountain, which makes sense. They're pretty cool.
Then I asked about his teacher, a sweet and perky new graduate who is probably the best thing to happen since sliced bread and/or fluffer-nutter sandwiches.
Wow. I'd been impressed with her, but Alex was over the moon.
"Mama," he asked. "Can I color when I get home?"
"Sure," I replied, happy someone had gotten the creative gene (it's clearly NOT me). "You can color when we get home."
"I want to make MY TEACHER a drawing," he said, his eyes glazing over with joy, the words, "my" and "teacher" practically floating heart bubbles over them as he spoke.
True to his word, the moment he got home, he fished out some paper and markers and began to work on a masterpiece for HIS TEACHER (heart bubbles), which he gives her each and every morning.
Ah, puppy love. If there's anything more adorable than puppy love, I don't know what it is.