(Second) First Day of School!

Today was the first day of school! Given the fact that Cody mostly cried every morning through about April last year, I was bracing myself for a difficult sendoff. We didn't talk too much about it -- only when he brought it up. We went the week before last to say hi to his teacher and just re-familiarize himself with everything, and he seemed okay. (Cordelia informed Ms. Leavesley, "I am two now. I am ready for preschool!" And when Ms. Leavesley said she was excited that Cordelia would come to preschool when she turned three, Cora resorted to her usual plan B: lying. "I am three! Actually, I am five! I am ready for kindergarten!")

Anyway, a few days ago Cody asked me if children would cry on the first day of school. I told him some would, some wouldn't -- and that it's always okay to just feel your feelings. I explained that some of the three-year-olds might cry, because they would feel like he did last year. And that now that he's four, Cody could really be a help and comfort -- he could introduce himself, and play with them, and just show them around and be supportive. 

He took it to heart. This morning, he bounced in at 5:15 with his clothes in hand, saying, "I'm ready to get dressed for school!" He called JVL (who is at the clown convention in Charlotte) to tell him he was ready for the day. When we got there, he was happy and positive. He hugged all the staff, let me take his picture, and then said, "Okay Mom! I'm going out on the playground to have a great day! See you at 11:30!" 

And then...

...and then, nothing. That was it. I hardly knew what to do -- I felt like crying because I wasn't crying this year, and neither was he. What a difference a year makes!

Here he is last year:

And here he is this morning!

"Hi, Daddy!"

But what absolutely crushed me--in a good way--was that when I came back three hours later, I spied him in line to go back in from recess, looking solicitous and holding tightly to the hand of a little girl with red eyes. I spied as he led her inside and sat next to her on the red line, holding her hand the whole time. When he was dismissed, he came out to hug me, then realized that she had promptly burst into tears and run to Ms. Leavesley's lap. He said, "Mom! I will be right back!" with a concerned look on his face. I peeked in the doorway to glimpse him running over to put his arms around her, saying, "It's going to be okay today. And I will see you in the morning, I promise, and we will play again!"

I told him how very proud I was for his kindness and he said, "Oh, Mom! That was Carly. She was having a rough time. When we went to recess I saw her start to cry and go to Ms. Leavesley so I just went up, introduced myself, and told her it was okay to feel her feelings, and I said, 'Would you like to play with me?' And she said yes! So I just played with her all during recess and she cheered up. She was just very overwhelmed and sensitive so until she is settled in I will just be on Carly Patrol."

My chest was totally constricted. I don't know how to express it -- I was just so proud of him. I don't think you can teach that sort of goodness; I think it's just how he's wired. I can teach him how to express it, but the instinct is just there. He can be such a great kid.

But I'm saving the best for last. He told me that after line time he went straight for a pencil and paper and started writing, and showed me his papers (just practicing his name and a few little words). He then said confidently, "I'm going to write a book this year."

"Wow!" I replied. "That sounds like a really good project. I can't wait to read it when it's done."

"Well," he confided, "it will probably take me about fifty years to write. But I'll still finish it faster than Daddy did."