Day One

The Verbalist began kindergarten today. He woke me up at 6:45 bursting with excitement.

"Mom! I start school today!!!!!!!!!!!" I cracked my eyes, not being a natural morning person. He smiled beatifically, cowlicks crazy all over his head.

"OK," I sleepily replied. "Go play quietly." I was too late though, I was awake. I dragged out into the kitchen and made myself some tea and began fixing breakfast for the Verbalist. My children are all hearty breakfast eaters and the Verbalist really wanted to fuel up for the big day: eggs (2), toast (2), apple slices, cheese slices and milk.

After breakfast he cleaned up and got dressed wriggling around madly. By this time his sisters were waking up. I got them up and dressed them. The Muralist, after making an exhibition of herself the last two days we left for various orientations, lounged watching cartoons nonchalantly. "See-ya." she tosses off, reveling in the knowlege that she will get to paint after he leaves.

At school, The Verbalist, my mother in law, and I get out and wend our way through the teeming mass of children pouring from the busses. The kindergarten class is right up at the front of the building so the small frye don't swim with the bigger fishes long. The kindergarten room is filled with students and parents, the Verbalist's teacher expertly navigating and directing and managing to talk to each kid without rushing. She has been teaching 5 year olds for 25 years, nothing much alarms her I imagine.

At last we snap our last pictures and I bend down to say goodbye to the Verbalist. He has been playing with playdough and chatting at the boy on his right non-stop.

"I'm going." I said. "I'll meet you outside the big main doors after class."

"Okay mom, take your time." With a dismissive wave of his hand, I was sent from the classroom. The first stop on his academic career outlined in neon pink playdough.