Tomorrow, Sabrina starts kindergarten. It's the first time I'm experiencing this big transition because at five, Max just stayed in the same school he'd been in; there's no kindergarten class there. I've been pretty relaxed about the whole thing and then suddenly today, I got all hyper.
I called the school to find out if she could wear shorts (yep).
I called again to find out what to send for lunch, like I had never prepared lunch before in my entire life.
I called Dave three times to make sure he'd gotten in touch with the bus company about what time the bus was coming.
I ran out to get the book The Night Before Kindergarten.
I called Dave again to make sure he'd remembered to ask what time the bus company was dropping her off.
I even picked out her clothes ahead of time, the sort of organizational thing I never do. This was mainly because we typically have a 7-minute battle every morning over her outfit. I know I should just let it go but I get so tired of seeing her in Max's gray shorts and a gray Mickey Mouse t-shirt, her current favorite outfit. It's parent abuse, I tell you—I am being deprived of my right to see my little girl in cutesy dresses, although I don't think suing her would accomplish anything. Today, though, I didn't even bother asking her to wear a dress tomorrow. We settled on a previously unworn white t-shirt with a gumball machine on it (which she's ignoring because it's not gray) and a pair of Max's brown shorts...from the laundry.
Sabrina is totally calm. Tonight she asked vital questions like "Will they have snack?" and "Will I be able to wear Max's shorts every day?" but in general, she seemed pretty nonplussed. I read her The Night Before Kindergarten, and she most liked the part at the end where the parents bawled because—SPOILER ALERT!—they were sad about leaving their kids at school. So, she likes to torture me by not wearing dresses and she'd like to see me cry. Nice!
The bus will be picking her up at 7:15. Dave and I were all ready to drive her for the first day but she said, definitively, "I want to take the bus." For years, she's watched Max board a small yellow school bus, and I think she's all, FINALLY! I AM GETTING TO RIDE THE BUS. I think she's aware, too, that she's getting older, and I'm not sure she completely likes that. When I got home from work today, she was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking chocolate milk and wearing an old Elmo bib.
Truth, I'm not totally ready to let her get older, either.
