At the risk of sounding like - or rather, revealing myself to be, in truth - a superstitious loon I have not wanted to say anything about the first couple of weeks of school. If I talk about how happy Edward seems to be in his new class it is just asking for a smiting, isn't it? Last week, for example, I started to write a little something cheerful only to get a call saying that Edward was in the principal's office having pointed his finger at the Spanish teacher in a, shall we say, a calibrated manner. Now, we could go back and forth all day about whether it was Edward or the senora who may and/or may not have pretended to poptart the other but the end result was that it's all cool. A big misunderstanding. All better now.
On the plus side it gave me the chance to talk to his teacher who first assured me that it was no big deal and the only reason it even looked like a big deal (what with the principal's office and the phone call home and Edward's resultant capital H Hysteria) was because of the district's zero tolerance policy toward fingers. She then told me that every day Edward was becoming less and less worried and more and more engaged and that everything was going to be fine. Finally she expressed her eagerness to connect with Edward's OT person because she wants to make sure that she is fully supporting whatever he needs as he builds his small motor skills. At which point I flung my arms around her neck and promised to provide her with whatever she needed - Clorox wipes, headphones, black market unbreakable crayons - for the rest of my life.
I love her I love her I love her.
If you remember how Edward spent kindergarten (curled in a ball with his hands over his ears) you can probably imagine how much I enjoy opening Edward's backpack and seeing that he has written in his daily journal
[Awkward moments in parenting:
In the beginning his teacher wrote the notes in his daily journal for him, Edward tending to boycott such things since he is intensely embarrassed by the fact that he has trouble making the letters and numbers look like letters and numbers. But his teacher worked her magic and one day I saw that Edward himself had done the writing.
"Edward!" I said. "You wrote in your journal! I love it! Come tell me about what you wrote."
Edward looked a little surprised and said, "You can read. Go ahead and read it."
And I looked at the page and thought oh damn it, really? But said, "Ah. Yes. OK. Well, here at the bottom it says, ah, um, mom. Momanddad. Mom and Dad! Yes! Uh. And something 2?"
Caroline, at this point, glanced over my shoulder and said, "It says, 'Sing song to mom and dad.' Nice writing, Edward!"
Edward said, "Thanks! You're a good reader, Caroline."
She said, "I know."
Then they both looked pointedly at me.]
Yesterday Edward told me they were learning about the digestive system and how they did this cool experiment (orange juice and a piece of bread in a plastic bag to illustrate how acids break down food in the stomach - lovely.) Then he said, "First grade is awesome! I never realized we would be learning like this."
So. There it is. Yay! And now I am jinxed, so help me.
PS On a completely unrelated note, I am utterly obsessed with the Scottish referendum and Scotland, you're killing me. No exit polls? I have been reduced to looking at photographs of people entering the polling stations, trying to decide whether they have a yes look or a no look about the set of their shoulders. Over the past few months I have read everything I could find on the subject and if I lived in Edinburgh (or better yet in Stornoway. I could live somewhere close to the sea and learn Gaelic) I would be biting my nails to the quick today trying to decide what to do. Risk! Potential! Risk! Potential!
Most of all I am just impressed by how civilized it has all been. Some vandalism, some name calling, a few times I thought Alex Salmond might grab his foot and rip himself in two just like Rumplestiltskin, but, overall, what a model for political discourse. Scotland should be very proud, I think.
PPS Edward really was not miming a gun with his fingers. He is not a gun kind of a kid. Now, if he had been caught with an imaginary broadsword...
PPPS Now that I have said that I hope Scotland doesn't riot or do something awful. I seem to be worried about jinxes all over the place today.