Monday, August 27, 2007

Jake's First Day of Church.

I thought it was going to be harder than it was. I think Open House did its job - it allowed the Moms to get used to the whole idea and gave it time to sink in that our kiddos are growing up. Jeff and I took him to school, signed him in, took a few pictures, and stood side by side watching through the one-way glass as our big boy entered the classroom for his first official day of PreSchool at our church home. It was sweet, and I am so glad we both went. (Frankly, it took two people to lug all the stuff we over packed for him. One mom showed up with nothing but a Ziploc with a few Pullups... we had a big ol' Santa Claus lookin' bag of snacks, Rice Milk, outfits, lunch, meds, etc. "just in case.")
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Jack Everett DOES NOT let us call it school. He insists, "It's not school! It's church!" That's what he has called this awesome place his whole life, and he's made it clear that he is NOT changin' it now.
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Daddy gets Jack Everett ready for school. He's wearing his shirt with a drum set on it which says, "I'm with the Band." (Wow, he's pretty tan.)

Jack, who has called this particular stuffed animal "Lion" for almost a year, all of sudden insists on calling him "Leopard. " We say, "But Jack, he's not a leopard, see his big mane? He is a lion." He says, "I know, but I just wike to call him Weopard." So, Weopard the Wion rode with us to school on the first day.

Jack loves his new Diego blankie Mommy bought just for school, I mean, church. He wrapped himself in it and walked in this way.
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I wonder what she thought when she opened the gate to this little one, complete with "I'm with the Band" T-shirt and Diego wrap skirt.
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I'm proud of myself... I didn't call the church one time all day! So, I go to pick him up, pleased that it took only 35 minutes to get there from the office. I get there, and before he sees me, the teacher tells me that aside from one potty accident, he did great. He ate his lunch, took a good nap, and played well with the other kids. She was so super kind.
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It's time to sign him out. I anticipate him running up to me smiling, saying, "Mommy.... I am so glad to see you, While I thoroughly enjoyed meeting my classmates and diving into the curriculum, I missed you a lot today. I love coming to church, but can't wait to spend quality time together tonight when we get home. I will tell you every last detail about my day, Mom, and look forward to reviewing today's lessons before bed."
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Instead, he runs up to me, and I see this little art project hanging from his neck...
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* SIGH *

I got there this morning thinking, "I wonder what techniques they'll use to encourage him to share... I wonder if they'll think he's advanced... I wonder if he'll integrate himself socially..."

I left there this evening thinking, "I wonder if they called him Jack."

3 comments:

cristina said...

maybe his friend jake shared his craft with him? you CRACK ME UP!

Danny said...

I Trust You'll Treat Her Well


Author: Victor Buono


Dear World:
I bequeath to you today one little girl...in a crispy dress...with two brown eyes...and a happy laugh that ripples all day long.. and a flash of light brown hair that bounces in the sun when she runs.
I trust you'll treat her well.

She's slipping out of the backyard of my heart this morning...and skipping off down the street to her first day of school. And never again will she be completely mine.
Prim and proud she'll wave her young and independent hand this morning and say "Goodbye" and walk with little lady steps to the schoolhouse.

Now she'll learn to stand in lines...and wait by the alphabet for her name to be called. She'll learn to tune her ears for the sounds of school-bells...and deadlines...and she'll learn to giggle...and gossip...and look at the ceiling in a disinterested way when the little boy 'cross the aisle sticks out his tongue at her. And now she'll learn to be jealous. And now she'll learn how it is to feel hurt inside. And now she'll learn how not to cry.

No longer will she have time to sit on the front porch on a summer day and watch an ant scurry across the crack in the sidewalk. Nor will she have time to pop out of bed with the dawn and kiss lilac blooms in the morning dew. No, now she'll worry about those important things...like grades and which dress to wear and whose best friends is whose. And the magic of books and learning will replace the magic of her blocks and dolls. And now she'll find new heroes.

For five full years now I've been her sage and Santa Claus and pal and playmate and mother and friend. Now she'll learn to share her worship with her teachers ...which is only right. But no longer will I be the smartest woman in the whole world. Today when that school bell rings for the first time...she'll learn what it means to be a member of the group...with all its privileges and its disadvantages too.

She'll learn in time that proper young ladies do not laugh out loud...or kiss dogs...or keep frogs in pickle jars in bedrooms...or even watch ants scurry across cracks in sidewalks in the summer.
Today she'll learn for the first time that all who smile at her are not her friends. And I'll stand on the front porch and watch her start out on the long, lonely journey to becoming a woman.
So, world, I bequeath to you today one little girl...in a crispy dress...with two brown eyes...and a flash of light brown hair that bounces in the sunlight when she runs.

I trust you'll treat her well.

Anonymous said...

You make me CRY - sometimes with sad tears, and other times, I'm laughing aloud in this quiet library of mine, water coming down my face from the silliness I miss so much. Everyone wonders what in the world is wrong with Mrs. G...I love you, Missy.