New Firsts

Over the last couple of weeks, a whole set of "firsts" arrived in the life of you, my daughter. And for me. First day at school. First bus ride. First backpack full of forms for Mommy or Daddy's attention. First parent meeting.

You are excited. And anxious. (Me too.) Though, I've noticed something interesting. You come home and orginally you really don't want to talk too much about your day (don't tell me, this is happening already!). Instead, you kind of go "wild" and forget our rules. It's probably because you've had to hold it in all morning so you could focus on listening, obeying, and following a whole new set of procedures. When you come home, you probably want to relax and do whatever. I need to understand where to insist on the rules and where to let go for the sake of your sanity.

Eventually, you start spilling tidbits of your day.

"There were a bunch of girls who didn't want to share the flowers," you mention.

"What did you do?" I ask.

"I asked them, but they still didn't want to share," you reply.

"Then what did you do?" I continue the query.

"I was going to ask the teacher, but she was busy. So I did something else."

"Yes, my dear, sometimes that is all you can do."

Another time, after a moment of quiet reflection, you look at me and ask, "Did I do bad today?"

"Did you?" I gently question.

"Yes. I took a book when it wasn't Center Time and my teacher told me to put it back," you confess.

"Did you put it back?"

"Yes."

"Sometimes we make mistakes. And that is okay. But you listened in the end. That is good. Next time, remember to tell your teacher that you are sorry when you do something you shouldn't." (I am sure there is more that I could have said, but that is what came out in the moment.)

"Okay."

Today, I had to laugh at you and your brother.

"I will keep going to school until Grade 10?" you wonder.

"No, until Grade 12," I correct.

"Then what happens?"

"Well, you will probably decide to go to another school to learn how to work. I went to the University to learn how to be a teacher," I explain.

"I'm not going to do that. I'm not going to University. I do not want to work. I don't like working!" (Oh boy...)

"Maybe you will work when you are 89!" your brother suggests (89 is his favourite number these days).

"No," you emphatically state.

I also chuckle at how I dress you for school in comparison to some other mothers. Your clothing is functional: t-shirts, pants/jeans, runners, and blue/pink backpack. On the other hand, some other girls are wearing sparkly shoes, skirts, jean jackets, and dresses while toting backpacks with Hello Kitty or Princesses. Not you. Thankfully, you haven't complained.

There will be more firsts to come, I'm sure. While there are some days during the past few weeks that I blinked back tears, I am happy for the most part that you have begun your formal educational journey. May God equip you with wisdom, courage, integrity, kindness, and grace in the days to come.

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