There were nervous tummies yesterday,
the day before the first day of school,
so we all did what we did best.
I made him a Lucky Rock...
one that he could keep in his pocket
and give a squeeze to if he needed a touch of home.
He....played with Legos. And refused to talk about the inevitable....
I wanted to talk.
I wanted to fill his head and his heart with words of love and support and
Second Grade? You Can Do This!
But that's not how he operates.
He keeps it inside;
safe in his head and safe in his heart.
He's got it under control.
|I'm not sure that's just a Brave Face. That smile?|
That's all him.
After breakfast this morning, with several minutes to spare before he was needed at the bus stop, Evan retreated again to his cocoon of Legos in the playroom.
"I want to go in there," I told Sam. "I want to give him a first day of school pep talk! I want to tell him that I'll miss him but that I'm so happy and excited for him! I want to tell him to be brave, and have fun, and meet new people, and try his best, and have a good attitude, and be kind...."
Sam's response was simple and to the point: "Don't." But I finished his sentence in my head:
"Don't make this morning about YOU. This is HIS first day of school."
And so I didn't.
I left him to his contemplative construction of Star Wars battleships
and I didn't say a word.
(...Out loud. But, man, did I send up a novella of thoughts and prayers to the Universe.)
Just before the clock struck Go Time, he came out to the family room and
curled up in a tiny ball in the corner of the couch.
I took my cue,
snuggled up beside him and....
Then, we headed out for the obligatory First Day of School pictures.
|He's a big kid now. Look at this boy.|
Last hugs at the bus stop...
And then, he was off.
Like a pro.
Like a second grader.
I'm not sure why his introspection and quiet retreats into his own thoughts continue to surprise me. He is so much like me in so many ways...and in this way we're practically the same person. As much as I wanted to play the role of the Mother Who Had All The Right Words this morning, that's not really who I am. And it's certainly not what my sweet boy needed from me. And so, as much as it felt like something was missing this morning, this quiet, thoughtful morning was actually Just Right.
And that boy of mine? He is, too.