Thursday, February 12, 2009

The Blessed Oblivion of Boys

Here's a picture of my son on his first day of Kindergarten at his new school back in the Fall , all dressed up in the WRONG uniform. This was not completely my fault -- the school had cancelled the new parent orientation, which is apparently when they would have told me that even if the first day of school does not fall on a Wednesday, the day that chapel uniforms are required, and even if the first day of school was scheduled to be on a Wednesday but actually turned out to be on a Thursday because of the tropical storm that blew right on past way out in the Gulf, you still bring your kid in chapel uniform. So here he sits, in his every-other-day-but-chapel-day-uniform, completely oblivious to the fact that he looked different from all the other children in his class:



I show you this picture because I did not have an opportunity to take a picture today of the moment I realized (on my way to pick Casey up from school this afternoon) that today was the day of the class Valentine party. I was unable to capture for you in digital form the sickening green pallor that came over my face as it dawned on me that I had not sent valentines with Casey to school today for all his classmates. I had at least five full minutes in the car of near-hyperventilation imagining how my son had sobbed and screamed in agony while all the other children were passing out their valentines to their classmates and my son had nothing, absolutely nothing to give to his friends. And I saw in my mind the exact moment his teacher realized I had sent my son with nothing and how she felt so sorry for him because he had a mother who was so horrible that not only did she not send the valentines, it probably didn't occur to her to even buy any. And she was right.

And then I pulled up into the pick-up line, already crying, dreading seeing Casey, dreading seeing his teacher, wondering if the story of my neglect had already spread among the teachers. His own teacher didn't bring him to the car, so I was spared at least that humiliation. He hopped into the car, said, "Hi Mom!" And he had his little bag full of the valentines he had gotten from his friends with him.

I'm big on getting the bad stuff over with, so right off, I said, "Sweetie -- I'm so sorry."

"What for?"

"Well I didn't send any valentines with you today to give to your friends at the valentine party."

"Oh that's okay -- I just gave out Preston's, cause he went home sick."

Thank you, Lord. Thank you so much for giving me boys.

2 comments:

  1. Can I suffer from sympathetic PMS in the same way sympathetic labor pains attack? I must admit I was a little weepy also over Casey missing out on handing out valentines. He did, however, greatly enjoy passing the valentines he received at school to the rest of the family at dinner that evening. Mace even read the little saying on the candy sweethearts. Suprisingly, all of them said the same thing.

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