VirusHead

Ben lost his first tooth today. After dinner, I dashed out to find a tooth fairy toy. My mom put a quarter under my pillow. I’ve been told that the average tooth fairy gift is $5 today. Since he already has a piggy bank, I thought it would be more fun to put an actual present under the pillow. Now I realize… it isn’t that easy to stash a present under a pillow. Going in for my third attempt…

This morning was also the first time that I dropped him off at school without a goodbye kiss and hug. We drove up to the door, and there were child-attendents to help him get out of the car. I had been led to believe that they would escort him to the class, but they didn’t. He just stood there for a moment, looking uncertain – and then there was another car behind me and I was waved on. It bothered me all day, that little lost face – but he told me that he was fine, only a little worred about me because he hadn’t kissed me goodbye. I guess we’ll kiss goodbye before we leave the house. Or, I could drag myself out earlier and we could walk to school.

I have signed off on two homeworks already. They were working on tracing lines and “all, some and none.” He’s gotten stars of approval on his work, but he is already a little anxious about “staying in the green.” I’m not sure exactly what is going on with this, but “some kids are in the yellow” and he has to “stay in the green” in order to “see a treasure” on Friday. I get the traffic light metaphor, which I assume has to do with being well-behaved, paying attention, following directions, and things like that. But… what “treasure”? And if there’s a “treasure” it seems a little strange only to allow certain “good” kids to see whatever it is. I’m reserving my judgment until I hear what happens on Friday.

He also asked me an odd question today. He asked me if I ever hated who I am. I answered him pretty honestly, and said, “Not really, most of the time I like myself – but when I was younger sometimes I did hate who I was.” It was a stretch to hold that facial expression of understanding when he admitted that sometimes he hated who he was…. because he wasn’t a superhero, and so he couldn’t fly!

Of course I told him that there were lots of ways that kids can be heroes – by being kind to other people, by listening, by standing up for someone when they are right, and so on. And I also said (although we’re doing the tooth fairy thing) that superheroes are really a story – and that humans can’t really fly. Only in airplanes. “And helicopters,” he added. “And rocketships,” said me.

I told him I wished that I could fly too – but not being able to isn’t a good reason to hate yourself. So he gave me a big hug and said, “Mommy, maybe I’ll just have a good dream about flying – that would be nice.”

This morning is my son’s first day of kindergarten. For the last week or so he has been preparing for the big day. His Monsters Inc backpack seemed like a “baby” pack to him now, so we got a “supercool” Batman bag and some “Star Wars” sneakers. Loves the brand-names, he does, just like most of his friends. On the way over to the school, he kept clenching his fists and grinning. “It’s so exciting!” “I’m so happy!” “I’m a real kindergartner now!”

At registration last week, we bought the mandatory $26 bag of supplies from the PTA, got him paid in advance for school lunches, signed up for a couple of committees – I dropped a fair bit of cash there. I was astounded at the amount of paperwork involved. They wanted to make copies of his birth certificate and social security card. We had to produce proof of updated vaccinations, vision test, hearing test and even a dental examination. We also had to bring utility bills to prove residency – one each for my name and my husband’s name.

Then I read the manual. Eek. His school is corporate-sponsored – oh, I mean “partnered” with a bank – they have a mini teller station at the school and older kids are trained to be bank tellers. The kids deposit on Friday. In a way, I approve, but I can’t suppress a little shiver of revulsion nonetheless. It could be worse – it could be Coca Cola or Lockheed Martin or Chick Fill A, I suppose. The rules are pretty amazing too. If he’s tardy 3 times, he has to take a “silent lunch” – as if his tardiness would be a matter of his choice or control. Looks like I’ll have to be an even earlier bird now. It’s hard to flip my natural night owl nature, but I guess it’s all part of momhood.

I walked my happy jumpybug into the class (only allowed on the first day – he’s a big boy now). He met his teacher and seemed to take to her right away. He found his name and sat in a chair and looked at the goodies on the table – a plastic box identical to the one I bought – filled with crayons, a pencil, and glue. I’m guessing that the required items I brought in will be added to a supply area. He knew three of the kids in his class already – and greeted them with hugs. When the bell rang, all the parents left. One parent videotaped the entire thing, even panning as he backed out the door – his whole experience was through a lens.

The room was big and bright and colorful, with different areas for diverse activities. The schedule for the day posted outside the door like a menu. No recess – but perhaps “creative movement” was a renaming. I see that I have a lot to learn about the school system here. This school has a very good reputation – it’s one of the reasons we bought our house. I was touched to see that outside the door there were older kids ready to walk anyone in if they were just dropped off. When we go to pick him up, one of these older kids will go into the room and bring him out – kid by kid, individually. No-one is allowed in the school without a visitor’s pass. The doors are locked from the outside, but will push open from the inside (in case of fire, etc.)

My last glimpse of my boy showed him smiling and talking to the kids at his table, introducing himself. I remember how shy I was at that age, and I feel very proud of him. He’s a great kid.

I glanced around the room. No one was crying. Yay.

We drove in this morning, but he requested that we walk home this afternoon. I’m looking forward to hearing all about it.