First Day of Kindergarten

I am back writing this blog after a very busy and unusual summer and will return to talking about improv in the future. I need to ease myself back into writing, and since the summer is coming to a close, I thought this would be a good place to pick back up.

Today was Betsy's first day of kindergarten. As parents, Lauren and I had talked to her about it, to prepare her for her big day.

She admitted that she was excited and scared. "I’m excited to make new friends and sacred I won’t remember everyone's name," she said.

Her parents had their own feelings. We did not know how she was going to react when we dropped her off. Sure, she had gone to preschool, but those were only half days and she always had time in the afternoon to play with her parents.

Would she cry and have separation anxiety?

Would we cry and have separation anxiety?

I was proud of my daughter that she could so articulate exactly how she was feeling, and proud of us that we did not try to fix her feelings. This was very different from how I was raised.

Since Kindergarten started an hour earlier then preschool used to, everyone in the house was up by 7:30 a.m. except for the cat. I was already having a hard time with the time change.

Betsy was dressed and ready to go. After breakfast, I packed Betsy's snack in her Disney Princess lunch box and filled her matching water bottle, thinking how much this whole Disney Princess thing is either the most brilliant marketing ever created or a scam. They basically bundle six different princesses from six different movies and created a whole new line of products called Disney Princess.

Lauren and I had decided we would both walk her to school, since it was her big day, and even though we live directly across the street from the school, we knew we were going to be late on the first day. I don't really anticipate that changing for the rest of the school year.

On top of it, we wanted to get a picture of Betsy on the front steps of our house to document the occasion. The older your child gets, the clearer it is to see what traits he or she gets from you. Betsy does not smile when you take her picture, which she gets from me. Even though I ask her to smile, I have given up, like I am sure my parents did when I was her age. After five years, I’ve realized that her not smiling is something I just have to accept, especially when we’re running late.

When we got to the back of the school, a crowd of parents had formed outside the Kindergarten door.

It was emotional. One mom was in tears and asked another mom for a hug after she said goodbye to her kid. How would we all do?

We were standing in line waiting for our turn, I could look inside and see a long hallway, as a teacher was holding a crying 5-year-old in her arms. This was not just any hallway. This was a rite of passage.

Now it was Betsy’s turn. She had her Disney Princess backpack on with her matching lunch box, and a woman in a mask came to the door and took her hand. Betsy not only ran in to the building, she refused to look back when both Lauren and I called out to say goodbye.

It was a bit of a letdown that she went so easily.

Maybe as parents that is the kind of thanks we get for doing a good job of preparing her for Kindergarten.