The Mini started “school” this week. He was all excited to go. Well about as excited as a toddler could get, given the fact that he didn’t know where we were going. If I asked him, he said “school,” but he didn’t have much of a clue.
Until we got there, and then “holy shit, NOOO. Pick me up, UP UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUP.” As he gripped my neck, and started to get upset, the teacher pried him off of me and did the right thing. She walked away as he screamed “MAMA, MAMA.” The Meester and I kind of stood there dumbfounded, and I finally had to tell him that we had to go or else I would have marched back in there in tears and grabbed him out of her hands. It was absolutely heart wrenching and I felt like shit for the entire two and a half hours he was gone. It was very weird not having him at home. It was weird not having him around, period.
Of course, the teacher informed me that he calmed down after ten minutes (thankfully), but we had the same problem today. I’m guessing it’s going to be a bit of an adjustment for him, since he’s so used to me being his primary caregiver.
He’s been happy to see me when I go and get him, and gives me hugs. This part I love. Even after two days, I’ve noticed he’s more social, happier and less bored at home. He’s also trying to articulate more. While I believe that he’s got a processing issue with language, he IS trying to convey his thoughts, so I know that this is absolutely the best thing for him. I hate that they go to school so young, but I can’t entertain him as I used to, and I can’t give him everything he craves to learn. And the kid sucks everything up like a sponge these days.
The other thing he’s started doing as of late, is something I’m not proud of. He says dammit. When something goes wrong, I hear him mumble “Dammit,” which is entirely all me. Today, I heard him say “Dammit, spill apricot juice.” As he rounded the corner, he made a point of pointing to his pants. In leiu of actual swearing, I’ve habitually started to say dammit, which I don’t even do consciously anymore. The Meester of course, is having a field day with this, because it’s MY fault that the kid is saying dammit all the time, which I completely ignore, because I know the Mini will forget about it if I don’t make an issue out of it. Sure, he can laugh all he wants, but I’m just lying low like a tiger in the grass watching its prey. The minute he says “fuck,” I will just look him in the face and laugh heartily. It’s just a matter of time.