Christian has started kindergarten. Like most kids, he was conflicted. He was excited. He was nervous. He was pumped. He was scared. Luckily, he knew a few of the kids in his class. Yes, there would be girls in his class. His pre-k class was all boys, so he had trouble wrapping his brain around the concept of boys and girls co-mingling for extended periods of time. We explained how things would go. The bus would pick him up and bring him home. No, it would not get lost. He would hang his backpack and lunch bag up and sit in his seat. His teacher would be in charge. When she talks, he should listen. Sit quietly, keep your hands to yourself, raise your hand to ask questions. Be nice, be patient, be kind, be respectful. We thought we had it covered.
The first couple of days were great. He was excited and bursting with all news of the day. He told us who he sat with and what he learned. By around day 5, the bloom was coming of the rose. He wearily climbed off the bus dragging a backpack that covers most of his body. I asked about his day. "I don't think this kindergarten thing is going to work out for me, Mom. There are too many rules, it's too long and I don't like the snacks. We can try again when I am older." I explained that all the kids were adjusting to the new routine, schedule and rules. I assured him that he would get the hang of it in no time. The kindergarten honeymoon was over but he can't break up with it. Or his teacher. Who he thinks is cute so he is willing to give her another chance. Lucky lady.