Gus has been loving his new school so much, and looking so damn cute in his little shorts and belt and collared shirt and GINORMOUS Swiss Army backpack, that I pushed the first-day drama to the back of my mind.
But to summarize:
Gus cried, I cried, and then the teacher said something along the lines of “PLEASE LEAVE NOW GOODBYE” and locked her door.
I would have locked my door, too, if I knew I were still at large. What with my gasping, sobbing mouth and big leaky eyeballs. Patrick must have thought we were sending his brother away for good, and then sitting at the PTO Boo-Hoo Breakfast afterwards, sniffling into a mini-muffin, while another mother tried to distract me with talk of “getting involved”, I was all, So that went well.
I think it was the boy-to-backpack ratio that did me in. There was just so much backpack and so little boy. And then there was his little lunchbox. With his little ham sandwich. And his little juice box. And his little apple. And his little pack of Craisins. And his little cheese stick (I totally over-packed that first lunch). It was just too much!
But I’m over it now.
And so is Gus. He barely speaks to me when I pick him up. He’s just out the doors and running around with his new best friend, whom I keep referring to as Allen, even though his name is actually not Allen, his name is James. I do not know WHY I can not remember this child’s name. I just look at him and I’m all, Hello there, Allen!And I can’t remember his mom’s name either. When I first met her, I introduced myself and she introduced herself, and before her name was even out of her mouth, I’d forgotten it. So now it’s Not Allen and Not Allen’s mom whose name I do not know. I am horrible. Let’s be clear.
And now it’s been a whole wonderful week of school. A week of happy drop offs and happy pick ups and more time spent with my oldest son than I’ve had since he was … little.