It was the first day of the kindergarten school year. Parents were aloud to stay all day on the first day, and so I did.
My sister and I watched from the back of the classroom as he managed to ask twenty questions until the teacher finally said “I hear a voice but I don’t see a hand”. The look on his face, as he figured out that meant he needed to raise his hand before speaking, was priceless. And just like that, my little baby was thrown into a whole new world.
A world where pushing and shoving were the norm. Where spitting and kicking were common. And where germs roamed like vultures. Think I am exaggerating? Well I am not. I been there people. I know. I know how dangerous the playground can be. I know that if you don’t form your lines straight you get smacked by the line leader upside the head with a bright pink tupperware lunch pale. (I may or may not have done that). So obviously I was worried. Worried that my little man, who just happened to be the smallest kid on the playground, was in for something he didn’t know how to handle. And I NEEDED TO BE THERE.
Okay, so maybe I might be overreacting. NOT!
My sister and I stood on the blacktop. We could see little Paul running around and having a blast. He fit right in. I even began to think he didn’t need me. As we watched all the kids run and play, we noticed a circle started forming by the monkey bars. What were all the kids looking at? A few of them started flagging the teacher’s aide down. She ran over to see what all the fuss was about and as she parted the crowd of kids, she reached right in the middle, and pulled one out. She put her arm around him and started running him away from the playground. And thats when I almost had a heart attack.
IT WAS MY BABY!!!! And there was blood pouring down his face from his perfect little nose. Yes, yes, I know, how could this happen??? I wanted to run and pick him up and take him away from school and never let anyone near him ever again. But my sister held me back and said “its okay.” She calmly walked towards him and guided him to the nurses office.
I picked my heart off the floor, and followed them there.
The nurse cleaned his face, stopped the bleeding, and gave him a sticker. Then my sister said “ready to go back?” He said yes, and off he went.
Oh the agony!!!!! How many more bloody noses would he get? Was it a fight? Was it an accident? Would it affect him? Does he need me to stay there every single day with him? So many questions unanswered as he ran back to his class. And although I spent the rest of the day worried, he made it through.
His first day of kindergarten (minus the bloody nose) was a success. And now today, a year later, he enters the first grade.
Will he get a bloody nose? I don’t know. There are so many things I don’t know, and so many things I worry about. I wish I could protect him from any harm ever coming his way. I wish I could stop any pain he will ever feel. I wish he would stay six years young forever… or at least just longer than usual.
Happy Wednesday folks. If anyone is still here.