We are ending our 2nd week of school for Henry. 2 weeks, or more specifically 4 days. He’s in K2 and being his first time in school we have enrolled him as a T/Th student. Again, let me repeat, we have finished 4 days and I can’t help but wonder if it will get any better.
For 4 days, I’ve dealt with a child who clawed his car window screaming for his Mimi. For 4 days, I’ve dealt with a child who has attempted to lock me out of the car when I’ve tried to drop him off at school. For 4 days, I’ve dealt with a child whom I’ve had to drag out of the car kicking and screaming and hand him off to his teacher all the while he’s reaching for me and screaming “no”.
I had hoped that we just needed to get into our routine, but it appears that drama at the car line drop off will be our routine for this school year.
This morning, Davey and I talked up school to Henry, as he fought me while I was loading him into his car seat. Davey, my mini-me dork, LOVES school. He reminds me of myself and how much I looked forward to school everyday, how I wanted to see my friends and my teachers, how I wanted to learn and become smarter, and experience new things. Henry? Yeah, to quote his words, “I not care about dis (his speech) stuff.”
So, after all of our playing up school and it’s many, many benefits to Henry, I thought for sure Davey and I had crossed the bridge and that Henry would be excited, or at least more willing. Obviously, I thought wrong, as once again I’m holding up the carline to the empathetic faces of all the other moms, while getting Henry out, his arms gripped tightly onto his seatbelt while I’m pulling him by his legs.
I try encouraging words, tell him his teachers are going to be so happy to see him, or that they’ll be sad if he’s not there. I talk about his friends and all of the fun he’ll have with them. I talk about all of the cool toys they’ll play with and crafts they’ll make. Finally, I’ve ended up with, “You will survive, Henry.” Obviously, he doesn’t understand what I mean.
I don’t get it. I don’t understand why going to school is so torturous, especially when I pick him up, he’s so eager to tell me about his day. He has a smile on his face, tells his teachers “bye”, and climbs into the car already talking about the day’s adventures. I want to tell him, “i told you so,” but I’m told that’s not appropriate.
My mother has her own theory as to why my youngest acts as if he’s going to the slaughterhouse when I drop him off at school. He knows Davey is with me and he feels left out, anxious about what he’s going to miss, and not exactly eager to know that Davey is getting one on one time with me. I want to tell him, that he gets three days of one on one versus Davey’s two, but once again I don’t think he’ll understand.
I suppose I will continue to fight this battle and be thankful that my youngest isn’t my brother incarnate. My brother once locked my mother out of the car when she got out to get him out for school. I can see this same scenario playing out for me one day.