Shepherd started school today.
He is going into Transition, which is a grade to "bridge" kids, mostly boys, who turn 5 during the summer. That way they won't always be the youngest/smallest/most immature kids in the class.
And now I am thinking it may also be a way for said kids' mommies to avoid the inevitable just one more year.
Shep's Bridge class consists of himself and ten other boys. Not one baby doll or pink crayon in sight.
I.e., he thinks he has died and gone to heaven.
They do all the kindergarten-y things, like wear uniforms and go to school every single day. His teacher will follow a kindergarten curriculum, they just don't rush through it.
Because you know, it's not kindergarten.
Yesterday we went to Meet the Teacher and it was explained that school started at 8:30. Walker will take him and drop him off in the carpool line but today I wanted to walk him in for his first day of real, big boy school.
Even though (have I mentioned?) it's not kindergarten.
The problem is that I haven't had to do the Four Kid AM Scramble in almost three months, and for Mother's Day Out, I never had to be there before nine. Ish. So being completely out of practice, we pulled into the parking lot at 8:37. I raced across the campus with Ike in a stroller, the others running behind, and knocked at his new not-kindergarten door. His new not-kindergarten teacher opened it, and I peeked in and saw ten little boys working quietly at their big kid desks.
And then she informed me sweetly that we were tardy, therefore had to go to the office to get a permit for Shepherd to come to class.
Ok, can I just say, in all my fantasies of walking my little boy to class on his first day of Not Kindergarten, this particular situation was never once envisioned?
If I had a tail it would have been in between my legs so far I would have tripped over it.
We made the Walk of Shame to the front office and I signed him in. On his tardy slip, where it asked for a reason, I just scribbled one word: "Mom".
Then I hugged my little boy and chirped "Have a great first day of school!" as the secretary escorted him to class.
The kids and I skulked back to my car, and I tried to pull my bangs over the big L for LOSER MOM that had appeared on my forehead.
As I drove away, I consoled myself repeatedly...
At least is is Not. Kindergarten.