The difference a day makes

Looking at friends' Facebook updates today, it seems everyone but me had a big lump in their throat as they sent their kids off to their first day of school. Today was Evan's first day back at the preschool he joined two days after his third birthday, and I wasn't teary at all. No knot in the pit of my stomach, no choked good-bye. If anything, I was a tad miffed he almost skipped out on our kiss-hug routine.

But it's good that I didn't cry--I didn't have a reason to. Last November 23, I dragged Evan out of bed at 7 a.m.--an ungodly hour for a kid who only goes to sleep when his eyes just can't physically stay open any longer--carried him to the couch, turned on "Sesame Street," and laid out his clothes and backpack, checking back every few minutes to make sure he wasn't face-down in his bowl of apple-cinnamon oatmeal and raisins, fast asleep. Being the newbies, we pulled up to his classroom 15 minutes early, which meant I had ample time to convince Evan in my best isn't-this-going-to-be-great? voice that school was going to be awesome, and Evan had just as much time to convince himself that I was lying through my teeth.

At any rate, Evan must not have believed my rah-rah, school-is-cool cheer, because as soon as the teacher reached for him, he started wailing, then flung himself on the sidewalk. And oh, it was so hard to drive away. I did have a few sniffles that day...but within a week, the jig was up. Once his teachers reported that he stopped crying before he even got to the classroom, and he enjoyed himself hugely during those 2-1/2 hours, I didn't feel too bad for him. He got goldfish crackers and Fruit Loops and strawberry milk five days a week--life couldn't be a complete vale of tears. Now I was mildly annoyed--who was he to make me feel terrible for 2-1/2 hours, imagining that he was curled up in a corner and crying his little heart out, when he was really listening to Dr. Suess stories on the computer? And yet he still collapsed to the sidewalk each morning like a 40-pound sack of potatoes...

(This is obviously not at school--on the grounds of the art museum--but it demonstrates Evan's "melting" abilities.)

...until the day it snowed six inches. As Evan started to go down (or melt, as we call it), his teacher commanded: "Evan, there's snow on the ground. Get up!" I tell you, he couldn't jump to his feet fast enough. And that was it. The next day, he hopped out of the front seat and didn't even give me a kiss or hug. His teacher started to say, "Tell Mommy good--" but I frantically waved my hands--was she crazy?!--motioned her onward toward the doors, and high-tailed it out of the parking lot.

Evan's loved school ever since. It's been wonderful for him, and for us, and the only time I get a lump in my throat is when Evan points to one of his art projects on the fridge and proudly says, "I made that at school!" Good job, buddy. : )

Ready for his first day of school--before I wiped the blackberry jelly off his mouth.