The backpack is packed.

I have no idea why kiddo needs a highlighter, but the list says he does, so there you go. I'm just not picturing him marking relevant points in his addition and subtraction workbook, is all. Also unclear on the index cards and the dry-erase board markers. But they're in the backpack, along with the folders and the pencil case and the Ziploc bags and the extra crayons and the kitchen sink. I had him carry the backpack around just to make sure he could, because it's heavy. At least most of that stuff is going in his desk once he gets there.

So the supplies are ready. I'm a little unclear on whether kiddo is ready. He's been OK this summer -- some extra bounciness in the transition from kindergarten to full-day daycare, more running around and less listening, but he more or less settled down as far as we can tell. At least we didn't get complaints from the teachers. We did the library's summer reading program, kind of, except the library wasn't open on Sundays, and if we were busy that Saturday, we weren't getting to the library that week. Once again I suspect that library programs are meant for stay-at-home parents. The killer, of course, is that we read to the kids all the time -- we just don't always get the chance to prove it by marking the minutes down on a sheet.

Kiddo seems excited, I think, though he may just be excited by the new backpack (it's Angry Birds). I'm hoping at least one of his buddies from daycare, or from kindergarten, ends up in his class, although honestly he's so uber-friendly it might not matter that much. We were at the playground yesterday, and within two minutes he was running around with a couple other boys he'd never met before, and they were taking turns spinning each other around on the giant swing by twisting the chains and letting go (pretty sure this was not an approved use of the swing but OK).


Am I ready? Well. I'm never going to react to these milestones the way a mother of a neurotypical kid would. I won't get all teary-eyed about my baby growing up; I'll worry about whether he listens well or has a meltdown, or runs around on the bus, or throws things -- most of which he quit doing last year, but still. I'll keep pushing for our first meeting with the new 504 coordinator. I'll try and figure out when to start sending the weighted vest to school. I'll obsess about trying to get extra protein into a kid who doesn't like lunchmeat and can't bring nuts to school. (At least he likes soy nut butter. And cheese. Anything cheese.)

I feel robbed, in a way, that I don't get to just sit back and coo over my brand-new first-grader, and go on with my day. But he's my kiddo and I wouldn't trade him for anything. So I'll do whatever it takes to help him get through this school business. For the first day, and all the days afterward.

First grade encroaches

One of the things I like about our school district is the relative level of levelheadedness. For instance, the fact that there does not appear to be a kindergarten graduation ceremony in the works. I'm all for celebrating the end of the school year -- and the kids are having a party in class -- but I'm not convinced "graduating" from kindergarten is a moment that requires a gown-and-mortarboard ceremony. Sure, I'm delighted that he can read and write sentences (more or less) and seems to do well with math and does homework with a minimum of fuss, but I don't feel like he's gone above and beyond in his academic striving or anything. There was no colored-pencil thesis paper involved. He didn't conduct an in-depth academic study of the psychosocial undertones of storytime. Graduating kindergarten is just the thing you should do. By the time you're graduating high school and college, things are a little harder. Just my opinion. I'm sure we'll take him out for ice cream or something, and that should do it.

I am of course concerned about next year. It's a full day of school, not a half-day, and the work will be harder and who knows how understanding or proactive his teacher will be. I've read enough online from other parents to know that getting a teacher who "gets" ADHD is a bit of the luck of the draw. Sometimes you get teachers who say things like "Well, I think all first-graders have 'ADHD'" or "He would do so well in class if he would only apply himself" and completely not know, or not care, that a classroom setting is the wrong place for an ADHDer to excel, and that they have to do it in spite of themselves. People think it's a moral thing, not a neurological thing, even though studies keep coming out that prove otherwise.

Like I said, though, it's a nice school district, and they've been pretty good about accommodating us so far, so I might be worrying for nothing. I just really liked his teacher this year, and felt like she "got" kiddo and was willing to go the extra mile to work with us on him. She emails constantly, and she's called us on the weekends when she had concerns about things.

It probably helps us that kiddo is such a likable kid. Sure, I'm biased, but he is just ridiculously sweet and charming and friendly to everyone on the planet. He has this lovely desire to be helpful, whether it's helping kiddette get her shirt on or helping me pull the weeds out of the patio. Granted, he then stacked the patio bricks up and jumped over them, pretending he was Super Mario, but that's to be expected. (Aside from: How does he know who Mario is? Is he sneaking off to 1980s arcades when we're not looking? Does he have a secret NES setup in his room? And should I introduce him to Tetris next?)

So he might be OK next year. I guess. I hope. In the meantime, we're supposed to spend the summer working on his sight words and keyboarding skills -- yes, really, the district set up a program we're supposed to be logging him into, meaning one of us is going to have to share our laptop with him all summer -- and we'll keep reading to them all summer, obviously, so he'll be prepared academically, theoretically.

Incidentally, don't read "The Secret Garden" to your 6-year-old boy unless you'd like to have a long, in-depth discussion about cholera. Not actually the part of the book I was hoping he'd focus on.

... and the children have grown tired of playing Buzz and Woody in kiddette's room, and would like breakfast.