Monday is the big day. The big K. Kindergarten. We started getting into The Routine this week. We’ve got a morning chart. We’ve got supplies. We’ve met the kids, principal, teachers, parents. She’s ready. I’m ready. But is kindergarten ready for Violet?
I can’t really fathom what a huge change this is going to make in my life. Aside from two mornings a week, I’ve had Violet home with me for five years. Five and a half. That’s a long time to keep a tiny maniac from completing her plans of world domination. Yes I’ll still be at home with Graham, but that is another story entirely. I must say I am really looking forward to spending time with him. He has been competing for attention since the day he was born and I’d love to see him relax and know he doesn’t have to try so hard. I want to make cookies, do art projects, garden, with just him. These are things I do with both kids, but generally Violet has to star in the show.
Which is why I am not worried about how she will do in school; even with the dual-language. I mean, in some ways I feel like I should warn her teachers, but I’d hate to give them preconceived notions. Example: During swim lessons this summer the teen-aged instructor finally got fed up with Violet and another girl giggling and inching away from class. They got sent into Time Out. The girl burst into tears. Violet looked at her with an expression of extreme surprise and said, “What are you crying for? It’s just Time Out!” I really hope her kindergarten teachers know how to channel that energy rather than sending her to endless exhile. Her other “schools” never seemed to be able to do that.
I’ll admit it; when I was little, I was the kid who cried when disciplined. My personality is so opposite Violet’s that I often think she is some kind of alien child; like that dream I had when I was pregnant with her actually came true. It’s clear I subconsciously assumed that if I had a girl she would be a mini-me; that I would always be able to relate to her and, thus, be better able to help her. The truth is, although she looks more like me each day, she is a mini-Rob: outgoing, talkative, creative, high-energy, a leader, a performer, impossibly smart. I don’t know what advice I could possibly offer to that kind of kid. And will I understand her less and less the more she is gone?
We’re going to miss her. She and Graham have decided they want to be twins so they can be together all day. I just wish I could be a fly on the wall while she navigates through this next step. I don’t want to rescue her, I just want to watch. That would be the best reality TV show ever.