Yesterday Sean and I dropped Evan off at school. Evan’s school is Monday, Wednesday, and Friday afternoons. We wanted to ease Evan into school, rather than drop him into the deep end as some of the schools we looked at would do.
I packed the boys into the car after lunch. Each had his backpack strapped on to his back. I reminded Evan to raise his hand during the class and to listen as I know these are his biggest weakness. I had observed this last summer during his swim classes and then again at the open house where the teacher went through circle time with the kids. Really, the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.
We arrived in good time. The boys and I braved the sweltering heat as we marched to the classroom. A few other moms stood around with their kids, talking. I herded mine to keep them from running around in the landscaping. No one else’s kid was doing that, so I figured I shouldn’t allow mine either. Of course, it is desert-scaping; nothing can hurt it.
The teacher opened the door, and the children marched one by one. Sean followed his brother.
I grabbed Sean.
Me: No, Sean. That’s your brother’s class. That’s Evan’s class. Not for Sean.
He tried to wiggle out of my grasp. He started to cry, wail, scream.
Me: Sean, it’s ok. You’re going home with Mommy, and we’re going to have fun. Do you want to have fun with Mommy?
I picked him up, looking straight into his big brown eyes.
Me: I know. You want to play with Evan and his friends. But you’re not old enough yet. We can go home and play. We’ll have some special time.
Sean: With Dadda?
Me: Yes, Daddy is home. We can play with him, too. Do you think that is a good plan?
Sean nodded. We walked away.
Me: How about a binky?
Of course, Sean slept through the whole afternoon, missing any Mommy and just Me time. Poor kid.