Firsts

Summer is over and we are back in the swing of things, though "swing" makes it sound much more breezy and routine than seems appropriate.

This morning we were out the door by 7:50, Celia being the lone holdout as her brother and sister waited patiently in the car. She took her time brushing her teeth and finding her shoes and then, when it seemed that we may actually leave early on this third day of daycare and first day of first grade, nature called and she excused herself to the bathroom. I harumphed--"Celia, we need to get going!"--but her pit stop gave me a chance to run around and grab all thing things I needed for my day as well--laptop, phone, half-eaten bagel, coffee. Soon she was out and we were on the road.

By contrast, Andres was the disciplined one this morning. I had set my alarm for 6 A.M. so that I would be able to shower, change, and brew coffee (recurring theme) before my morning was wholly consumed by the challenge of getting three kids out the door on time. But who should appear at my bedside at 5:58, fully dressed? My son, the first grader. He sported a striped t-shirt and plaid pants and a smile that stretched from ear to ear. "Daddy I'm all changed!" he said. I was supremely proud. Though had he waited a few more minutes so that I could have slept until at least 6:00 I would not have loved him any less.

Being up at 6 with one child already changed and ready to go, you would think that getting out of the house would be a simple affair. It never is. Celia works according to her own schedule, and though Lucia is the easiest one of the three to get into the car (no complaining, fighting, or tantrums from her), it seems like bad parenting to put her in the carseat for an hour while I run interference between the other two. So here we were again at 7:40, on the verge of leaving, though this final mile is always the hardest to run.

Daycare dropoff was smooth, with Celia and Lucia happily staying behind at Betty's while I took the man of the (early) hour to Horace Mann. If he was excited this morning, then by now he was fevered. "We're almost there!!" came from the backseat, and I could tell he was kicking his feet too. Then, when we turned right to drive the final stretch to school, "We're turning!! I can't believe it!!"

We arrived at school early and, owing to new security procedures, had to wait outside until the doors were unlocked. Andres hung by me and watched other kids walk up--some new faces, some old friends. His old shyness was coming back. Soon it was a sea of kids and parents and cameras and new shoes and first day fashion that turned into a wave when the doors opened, sending everyone to their new destinations, to their basecamps for the year.

Another year older, another year wiser.

He found his classroom no problem, waved to his teacher, and then meandered through the classroom looking for his desk. He looked and looked, not finding it, until the final seat of the final table group--happily, at a table with some familiar faces. The shyness seemed to wash away for a second and he smiled and sat down. Here he was--a bona fide first grader, with a new spot to sit and a nametag to boot. It was going to be a great year.

Parents filtered in with their kids, so I stayed a bit and helped him with his morning work while we watched the room fill up. He happily attended to his first assignment (a quick search for hidden objects in a picture). I was reminded that School Andres can be quite different than Home Andres; the former a patient listener, a curious mind, a happy friend; the latter sometimes exactly the same, and sometimes exactly the opposite.

At home in his new classroom.

Time was getting on, and Andres seemed like he was settled in, having seen many of his friends come through the door and find seats close to him. So it was time for me to leave--but not before a kiss, a hug, and one more hug just because. "I can't wait to hear about your day!" I said. He smiled and said bye.

No doubt I'll get the abbreviated story when he comes home, along with many exhortations to stop asking him about his day because "I'm tired of talking." (A common refrain after requests for information about his daily activities in Kindergarten.) Though perhaps today will be different. He's in first grade, after all, and as he showed me today, he can get ready all by himself. What other new changes could be around the corner? And, more importantly, can he pass off this wonderful habit to his sister?