Last Day

Tomorrow is Big Kid's last day of Kindergarten. We'd put him on suicide watch if there was any risk of him ever touching anything sharp, swallowing anything, jumping, or doing anything dangerous whatsoever. He is just so sad about school being over.

Any time I mention the last day, he starts doing the fast blinking to hold back the tears. He looks up, blinks fast over and over again, and does this funny thing with his mouth to stop his chin from quivering. When I ask him what's wrong, he tells me that he feels "motional" about school ending. ('motional is the word of the week around here. Big Kid is 'motional about lots and lots of stuff lately. little kid bit Big Kid yesterday, and he was 'motional about it hours later still.)

There are no promises or consolations able to ease Big Kid's pain, either.

“I'm gonna miss my friends, mom. I'm gonna miss my class and my teatser. Dey are all great and I'm gonna miss dat, no matter how much fun stuff we do. I feel really motional about it every time I fink about it,” he said while starting to cry that he would probably never see Ahsiya or J. again.

As luck would have it, I ran into Ahsiya's mom today, who stopped me to tell me that she had told Ahsiya that Big Kid was switching schools and that she had collapsed in a heap of sobbing, saying that she couldn't go to a school without Big Kid, and crying for over an hour despite the entire family's attempts to cheer her up. I told her how "motional" Big Kid was about it, and we went ahead and exchanged numbers and promises to get them together this summer.

Then I saw J.'s mom. She's the one who didn't help Big Kid get lunch, and relayed the tales of my negligence to me throughout the year. We ended up talking a lot at a birthday party from hell we mutually attended, and by the end of it, I swore that I had mistook her and that there had been some odd social awkwardness going on and that perhaps I had unfairly villified her. At this same birthday party, I had mentioned that we should get the boys together over summer and she didn't respond. At all. It struck me as weird, but we were in a busy place and I began to doubt if she had heard me.

So when I saw her today, I told her that I'd like to exchange numbers to get the boys together, and told her how much I enjoyed their friendship. She laughed and said they were cut from the same cloth and showed me a bunch of photos she had of her son and Big Kid. I put her number in my phone and told her I'd call her, and all seemed well.

Then Big Kid was bouncing around on our bed when he got home and said playfully, "Mrs. P. (J.'s mom) said 'I can't wait for summer because it means the end of Big Kid! No more Big Kid!' And I just told her, 'I'm gonna get your phone number Mrs. P. and J's gonna come to my house and I'm comin' to your house too!"

I pressed Big Kid as to what she said then, or if he thought she was silly for teasing like that, and he changed the subject and seemed unconcerned. She had to be kidding, I think, and if Big Kid didn't react in any way other than to tease her back, maybe this is how they act with each other? Or he certainly could have misrepresented what happened, we all know that's possible. I don't know, I'm a big kidder and I can't see saying that, even jokingly, to a 5 year old friend of my kid's, but who knows.

Why can't my kid make friends with kids whose moms I want to be friends with? I'm just going to drop it, and if Big Kid insists I guess I'll invite J. over and her response will probably be a good indicator.

I'm excited for summer. Tomorrow is our family summer kick off party. I suggested matching shirts, but Mr. Ashley vetoed that. I'm thinking balloons, cupcakes, and family game night. And possibly alcohol--maybe I'll drink some drugs in celebration of no more car rider line or morning traffic or drug and alcohol education programs or awkwardness with weird moms.