School Boys

The boys started school this week. . . successfully!

Isaac is officially in kindergarten and is now one of the older kids in his class (along with a few of his friends from last year). One year makes a world of difference - when I compare his first week of school last year (the meltdowns, the tantrums, the phone calls, the parent-teacher conferences, the meetings with the vice-principal, ugh! what a nightmare!) to this year. He is taking his role as a "leader for good" very seriously and we have received nothing but praise (and green behavior marks!) from his teacher. Another parent, noticing me with Isaac after school today, told me how impressed he was with Isaac's manners at lunch (He fortunately did not know Isaac last year). Apparently he brought cupcakes for his daughters birthday and said that Isaac spoke very politely and was the only student in the class to thank him. We are all so proud of Isaac and hopeful that he will keep up his excellent behavior and good attitude all year.

Clayton is in second grade! And he is excited. . .despite being in the same class with bully-girl again. Grrr. (at least this year he doesn't have to sit next to her at lunch). It turns out Clayton is more forgiving than me when it comes to mean kids. Here are two conversations that prove it.

Conversation #1
Last year at lunch. I walked into the cafeteria just after Clayton's class had arrived. I was standing behind Clayton who was seated next to bully-girl who clearly hadn't noticed me yet.
Bully-Girl: (yelling to the whole class) Hey! whoever hates Clayton raise your hand!
Nobody raised their hands. They all looked at me in horror.
Me: (shocked and angrier than a mother bear) See? Nobody raised their hand. (then addressing the whole class) Whoever thinks that was a mean and insecure thing to say raise your hand.
Everyone raised their hands. Everyone except bully-girl who sulked the rest of the time.
Clayton: (to bully-girl) It's okay. I always just ignore you anyway.
That made bully-girl sulk even more.

Conversation #2
We ran into bully-girl at "meet-your-teacher" night this year where the two discovered they were in the same class. . . again.
Clayton: Hi bully-girl. Well. . . It looks like we're in the same class again.
Bully-girl: (glaring. seething. says nothing.)
Clayton: Let's just make an agreement to be friends this year, okay? That means I'll be nice to you like I always am. And you be nice to me. Deal?
Bully-girl: (looking sulkily at her mom and then back at Clayton. nothing.)
A few hours later while I was still loathing bully-girl, Clayton perked up and said, "I'm really glad bully-girl and I are going to be friends this year." And then he recounted the whole conversation to me.
I love that kid.

Brigham is in preschool and he styled his own hair for the first day of school. Do you like it? This week Brigham really got into gluing. He came home chanting, "one drop is enough. one drop is enough. one drop is enough." He glued and glued and glued and brought home page after page of little glued things. He stole some foamies from the classroom which I made him return and which his teacher said was okay because she knew how much he loved gluing which totally gave him the wrong idea about stealing. He also got in trouble for talking constantly (to himself) during nap time which he hated until the teacher told him he could just read a book and now if you ask him what his favorite part of preschool is he'll say, "nap time because everyone has to take a nap but NOT me." Brigham is so happy to be one of the big kids this year!

All the kids are going through major playtime withdrawals. And I don't blame them. With school PLUS our regular home routine and schedule, it seems like they have so little time for pure play. Eliza and I miss the noise, the sound effects and constant chatter during the day. We miss the never-ending entertainment. And I miss the help (from Clayton mostly). I always have such mixed feelings sending the boys off to school. I'm mostly happy. . . but kind of sad to see them all looking (and thinking of themselves as) so. . . so . . . so. . . grown-up.
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