A Big Day for a Big Boy

Today was Aidan's first day of school, a day greatly anticipated by all of us. So far, I'm not one of these moms who cannot wait for their child(ren) to start school; I like having him around. He's helpful, he's responsible, he's fun to talk with, he's an excellent guardian and big brother. This year Aidan is in Transitional Kindergarten, the "new" kind of kindergarten class for kids whose birthdays fall in that very late summer/very early fall window, where in many regards they might be too old for preschool yet too young for "regular" kindergarten and first grade. While "academically" (it feels strange to write that word in the context of five-year-olds) his class will be "first-grade ready," we will then have to decide at the end of the year whether to, indeed, send him on to first grade or wait a year, enrolling him into a "regular" kindergarten class. Wait and see.

So we talked it up today, big time. He likes the idea of going every day (but not weekends, of course!), and he likes the idea that he'll be learning more words that he can read (although he does pretty well in that department already). We left at noon, depositing Grace upstairs with my parents where she made herself at home at their lunch table, chowing down on cheese and melon, grapes and pretzels (all that, having just had her own lunch of a cheese sandwich and grapes), and Don and I together brought Aidan to school. Aidan chattered the whole way there, thrilled about the whole adventure, and as he ran down the steps to the school's door he yelled gleefully, "I'm back!!" We went indoors and gathered around with the other moms and kids, waiting outside the door until the teacher came out and called one name at a time. Aidan giggled and fidgeted, waiting his turn, so when his name was called we all walked in ...

And he was silent.
As a mouse.

His pace was cut in half; he smiled nicely but only shook his head "yes" or "not" when asked a question. He looked around the room cautiously. He eyed the three tables, each with an activity -- books, puzzles, or paper and crayons. When asked what he would like to do, he didn't answer; finally, very slowly and timidly, he made his way over to the table with the paper and crayons, smile still in place, and sat next to a little girl in a frilly pink dress and a massive Nellie Olsen bow in her hair. That funny, frozen smile was still in place when we left.

I picked him up later that afternoon; he was reading a story with the teacher while he waited. When he saw me, his little face lit up, that odd empty smile was replaced by a huge grin, arms were thrown around my legs after he sprinted to greet me at the door. His comment about the first day: "It was so great!" Well, then. Of course, he didn't tell me much about what he did, other than the fact that he was the "weather guy," and as the minutes ticked by his head went back on the headrest, his answers were curt ... he was exhausted.

We'll all sleep well tonight, I trust.
We'll tackle Day #2 tomorrow.