Let’s just get this out of the way. I don’t want him to go.
There, I said it.
He’s my firstborn. He’s my baby. He still runs up to me for hugs and loves to cuddle and I don’t want him to go to kindergarten. And yet here I am, setting up appointments for kindergarten screenings, getting to know the teachers, figuring out who will be in his class.
And all against my will.
I remember vividly the first week Griffin was born. For one reason or another, I had attached special importance to the first week. I could feel every second tick by. I wanted to dig in and slow everything down. I knew. I just KNEW once that first precious week was over that it was going to be three blinks and I’d be putting him on the bus to kindergarten. A rush of diapers and blocks and preschool parties and my long days with him would be over.
AND I WAS RIGHT.
I know kindergarten is even worse. Once they spend a majority of their day elsewhere, the time you do have with them passes even quicker. If his babyhood passed in three blinks, his primary school days will pass in one. Then, I’ll be balling my eyes out as he walks the stage at graduation and moves far away to follow his dreams and never calls his mama.
This is the worst.
What I hate more than the thought of how quickly the time will pass is how quickly he will change. My friends report the same phenomenon over and over again. They go to kindergarten and they change. They are no longer your sweet little kid. They grow a little bit harder and edgier. They pick up bad habits from their friends. They might as well be describing a person’s first time in prison.
I don’t want him to change! I want him to grow and learn and develop but does that have to be in exchange for attitude and sass and disrespect. If I’m being really honest, I want to protect him. I know there will be kids different from him in school. Kids that have seen and experienced things I’ve spent the last four years protecting Griffin from and that scares me.
Not because I don’t think he should ever learn to confront these types of challenges or deal with people different than him, but because I don’t really want him to learn these lessons at FIVE.
My logical mind tells me he’ll be fine. My friend’s kids are fine. They are better than fine. They are really great kids. But still, I just can’t get behind the positivity.
So, if I grimace at your encouragement or frown at your kindergarten stories, give me a pass.
This mama is wallowing. This mama is singing the kindergarten blues and she’s singing them hard.
How did you (or are you) handling the transition to kindergarten?