Our First Day of Kindergarten

Caedmon started Kindergarten last week two weeks ago earlier this month last month, and his first day of school was our first day of school. I felt the nerves and excitement and pride at having reached this point, as if I were the one hoisting the superhero backpack on my shoulders and marching through the gates of his school myself. I suppose that’s the nature of the parent-firstborn relationship: his milestones are essentially ours, as well.

Our new life with three kids, the last who, alas, does not sleep, has been harried as of late, and so, as evidenced by the edited and re-edited first line, I have taken a good amount of time to write this post. My hands have been literally full as I rock and will my baby to sleep, and I find difficulty in forming coherent thoughts and stringing them together in a way that is more than a mere stream of sleep-deprived consciousness, but I feel compelled to commemorate this great milestone.

Caedmon has come so far from the anxious and volatile stranger-danger baby to the sweet and agreeable little boy who cooperates with and plays well with just about everyone and who, when greeted by an acquaintance, will now respond with a quiet “hi” or at least a shy wave (which is a huge improvement from screaming in your face). He is kind and good-natured. He’s funny and still has the best belly laugh, but now his adorable chuckle comes along with his own set of jokes. He is a meticulous and creative builder (LEGOs, train tracks, etc.). He is earnest, silly, gregarious. But I remember when he was not so well-adjusted.

I remember the little boy who communicated in grunts and gestures, improvising with his own rudimentary made-up words, because his speech didn’t come to him until he was three. “Ah-vah” meant car or truck, and “ai-yah” was dog or fountain. How adorable he was with his bumbling speech, but how frustrating for all parties when he wasn’t able to fully communicate his feelings or desires. My poor child is trapped in a Neanderthal’s framework, I sympathized.

I remember the seemingly endless succession of Sundays spent in the church nursery, as Wayne and I took turns staying with Caedmon, unable to pry our screaming boy off our necks. On the days we were able to escape his grasp, the nursery workers would inevitably call us back to our inconsolable boy, who was also setting off other kids with his misery. And so eventually we resigned ourselves to our positions as unofficial volunteers; the only factor keeping us from formally enlisting our services was our repeated attempts to sneak off in our dogged determination to wean Caedmon off us… until tears, tantrums, and snot would fly and return us to our posts. I recall how defeated I felt. How bleak our future, I lamented: my son would forever be attached at my hip (how inconvenient and awkward this would be on his wedding day).

And I remember my seemingly affectless kid who showed no reaction whatsoever when he accidentally hurt me in an overly boisterous bout of play nor any remorse when I disciplined him for (fill in the blank). And I worried that he lacked empathy. Was he slow? Was he autistic? (Because early intervention is key!) Was he a sociopath?

In the throes of the stuck-at-the-hip days, it seemed like an end couldn’t come soon enough. A mother with grown children, who had been there and done all that, encouraged me that this—the frustrating games of charades that devolved into meltdowns, the split Sunday services that either Wayne or I might as well have stayed home from, the apologies made to others for our child’s inability to cope—this was just a passing season. At the time, these wise words fell on very distracted ears and were more a nebulous nicety than effective encouragement. But then just like that, the seasons changed.

Something just clicked when Caedmon turned three. He started talking, and consistent with the experiences of many others, once he started talking, he hasn’t stopped. (Which makes me grateful for the extra year of quiet we were able to enjoy. 😉) He started preschool, and though for a week, I expected a phone call from his school to pick up my child, he never cried even once at drop-off. And one day, when we walked him to his Sunday school class at church, he just let go of our hands and joined the other kids. As for his emotional capacity, not only is he showing signs of empathy, he’s also developing courage and leadership. My heart especially swells with love and pride when I remember the day Caedmon stuck up for his sister, who had just been shouted at by another little boy, still learning his social graces. “Don’t say those things to Addie,” I could hear Caedmon saying assertively yet kindly from the other room. “She’s nice. She does bad things sometimes, but she’s nice.” My son has a heart! And it’s a kind and good-natured one, at that.

These are the normal patterns of development for all children; my child is not extraordinary for growing, but it’s no less amazing to witness this transformation, especially for the first time.

And now we are in a new season: I am sending my baby into the World. Here is the beginning of best friends and bullies, crushes and heartbreak, first picks and dead last, and all the other new and sometimes uncomfortable, yet necessary, triumphs and growing pains that mark the path to adulthood. Truly, it has been like a blink of an eye. And—to throw out another cliché—like the slipping of sand through my grasp, I am constantly trying to hold on and remember and cherish. I know, there is no stopping of time. All I can do is open up my hands and enjoy the sand as it cascades through my fingers. 

Caedmon’s first day went without a hitch, but not without a fair share of hoopla, as we celebrated this big moment for him, as well as for us, his parents. We have successfully maneuvered the baby years with our first child, and that is no small feat. And now we—all of us—embark upon the early school years. Let the new adventure begin!

Caedmon and the obligatory first-day-of-school-with-a-chalkboard-sign photo. This was actually taken after school, following some outside play in the dirt, hence the sweaty hair (no, it’s not gel!), because this is what he looked like before school: 

Having been woken up early and then pelted with a barrage of overly-excited directives ("Put on your uniform!" "Come eat some breakfast!" " Sit next to Gus!" " Say, 'cheese!'" "We have to take your picture outside!" "Stand next to Daddy!" "Wait, put on your backpack!" "Say, 'cheese!'" "Hurry, we have to finish your breakfast!" "Don't forget your socks!" "Say, 'cheese!'") left Caedmon a little apprehensive and grumpy. I.... don't really blame him.

A breakfast of champions (and little boys starting Kindergarten): blueberry lemon zest muffins!

Caedmon and his entourage. My parents actually drove in from the Bay Area to participate in Caedmon’s first day of Kindergarten. As we made our way to school, we must have been quite the sight for the older neighbor we passed who was sipping his morning coffee on his porch. Like a scurrying parade of not very interesting people, we had Caedmon leading the way on his scooter, followed by his cousin Gus on his balance bike, I walked with Ryan in the carrier, my mom had baby cousin Max on her back while pushing Addie in the stroller, my sister, Sam, trotted behind, catching up with the forgotten water bottles and helmet, while my dad ran along and ahead of everyone, in order to take video and photos. This was serious business.

For this first day of school, parents were invited in to help our children find their hooks for their backpacks and then their spots at the tables where there was an activity page waiting for them. When everyone was settled, Mrs. C taught the children their first procedure in how to get up by table color, push in their chairs, and make their way to the carpet. And like magic, the children filed orderly to the designated space on the floor for her reading of The Kissing Hand by Audrey Penn. (They were better than high school Freshmen, I tell you!) In the story, Chester Raccoon’s mom eases his anxiety on the first day of school by kissing his hand and telling him to press that hand to his cheek whenever he wanted to remember her. It was very sweet, and I think it was as much for the parents as for the kids, especially us first timers. When it was time for us to leave, our kids kissed their own hands and blew us their kisses while we filed out the door. 

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, my mom got some cuddle time with RyRy. Why does he never sleep so contentedly on my chest?

And then it was time to pick up Caedmon, who said he had a "great" day at school. (That's his answer to everything these days.) On our walk home, Gong Gong wanted to try out Caedmon’s scooter. My dad is so big that it’s not obvious right away that he's actually riding anything.

For lunch, Gong Gong took everyone out to McDonald’s and treated the kids to Happy Meals. This was a celebration, indeed! I took about 50 pictures, and this was the best I could get. Addie was doing her Chicken McNugget dance in all of them.

And so Caedmon’s debut into the real world started with a bang. Since then, his entourage has dwindled to just me, Addie, and RyRy, and mornings are a lot more frantic than celebratory, but how lucky this boy is to have so many who love him and hope big things for him.