Well, it finally happened. Oakley started kindergarten, (btw, what does "kindergarten" mean? I always think it's "kindergarden" and that makes sense, but the gar"t"en has be baffled,) and we totally blew it. The introductory day setting the precedence for the next 13 years... blown.
It started out as anticipated. Oakley was a little nervous all summer. He would randomly ask me questions like, "What if I forget my lunch?" "What if there's a bully?" I was always able to come up with a vague answer basically alluding to the fact that we'd deal with it if it came up. That's how I roll. I had nervous sweats all day the Tuesday before he started, didn't sleep a wink the night before and was up and ready to go early, early and waited around with a belly ache for a half hour before it "was time."
(I didn't notice until I uploaded the pictures last week that he was and has been wearing his old shoes everyday so his toes are all curled up under themselves, geisha style. I don't know if it's worth the fight.)
I guess the rest of the day went fine. He really didn't talk about it. It was overshadowed by what happened, or didn't happen at the end of the day.
The end of the day, the bell rang. The teacher, Ms. Ide, walked the kids all out to their spot to wait to be picked up. Eventually, all the kids had been picked up. All except Oakley. They waited and waited. Finally they went into the office and waited. I had left a note in Oakley's folder saying that either Jason or Grandma would be picking him up, cause they make you say who it will be, and those were my best guesses. (I was working and was NOT to be bothered... just kidding, I was working, but that's not how I am... duh.) Jason was in an interview and hadn't taken his phone in with him, and had no concept of time. It must have been in Azkaban. The office tried calling him and had no luck so then they called Granny Berty and of course, she hustled down right away to pick up the poor kid. In the mean time, the injury occurred. Oakley was left to fend for himself, waiting in the office with the other "forgotten children." It was here that several second graders started chatting him up. They asked him his name and when he replied, they said, "Oak-lady? Oak-lady?" Traumatized for life. Absolutely. Or a few days. He hasn't mentioned it, so don't bring it up, k? Jason and I were / are probably still the most sad about it. Ah well, that's life.
So, yes, much wordier than usual or appreciated from me, but this is documentation here. As of the first Sunday after school started, Oakley does like school and is excited to go back every day. There have been a few funny Oakley takes that have made me laugh.
First:
Me: Who sits at your table?
Oakley: There's this boy named Crystal, he has long hair to here.
Me: A boy?
Oakley: Yes.
Me: Named Crystal?
Oakley: Yes, and he has hair to here.
Second:
Oakley: There were second graders at my lunch table.
Me: (Panicking due to the "Oak-lady" incident) Yeah? Were they nice?
Oakley: Yes.
Me: What were their names?
Oakley: I don't know one boy's, but the other one was Domas. Or Thomas. Or Domas. I think it was Domas.
The end.
Sorry, these conversations may become regulars on here.
