Engineer, a normally slow to dress himself child, bounded into my room this morning around 7:45 and exclaimed, "It’s the first day of kindergarten!"  By the time I rolled myself out of bed he was fully dressed and asked if we could get in the car.  For the next hour and a half all I heard from the child was, "Is it time to go yet?"

Kindergarten is going to so totally rock.

He met with his teacher today for 20 minutes and he couldn’t understand why he had to leave so soon.  He had a hard time answering the teacher’s questions because he was so distracted by all the letters and numbers around the room.  He kept looking around and making observations.  "Where’s the Z?  Oh, it fell down?  The U is going to fall down too…"  The child was in his element.  I don’t think he would have had a bigger high if he’d eaten cotton candy for breakfast.

While I was in the hall, another mom (realizing this was my first to go to school) asked me how I was doing.  I said I was great.  No qualms, no issues.  Feeling fine.  It wasn’t until (like Kathyrn) I was filling out some paperwork that I got a little fazed by it all.  The last question on the page was somewhat to the effect of, "what makes your child a special person?"  And how do you answer that?  I mean, he’s special because he’s mine?  He special because he’s my first born, chubby cheeked baby boy?  I wanted to write all about his sweetness and his brilliance.  How he calls me into his room when he can’t sleep and says, "Mommy, will you just talk to me?"  How he still gives me random hugs.  How even though his knowledge has increased, that nearly everything his teacher quizzed him on today he could have answered when he was still this boy: 

 

I can hardly believe my drinking milk from a straw cup, sleeping with his letters j & k, baby boy is entering the public school system.   Am I a little emotional?  No.  Nope, not really.  No.  Not at all.

Okay.  A bit.  Just a little bit.