The three boys and I head out to shop. We park the van to Toby's excited pronouncement, "WAL-MART!!!!" How did I get boys who enjoy shopping more than the only female in the house? We work our way down through our everyday list until shampoo and diapers have been accomplished and foreign items like lunchbox and nap pillow remain. A chipper "Let's go look at lunchboxes!" comes out of my mouth, as Eli's eyes show that this shopping trip has somehow turned dubious. I am trying to keep all-things-kindergarten pleasant, for my little man is teetering at times with this new step ahead and I cannot let him see his teetering mama.
I find a style that I think will hold his soy-butter and jelly sandwiches, his grapes, his cookies that I imagine I'll bake for him, his love note from me. I keep up the chipper voice: "What color do you like?" He seems a bit energized with the lime green. Lime green it is.
His is an all-day kindergarten, so a beach towel and small pillow for resting time are on the list of essentials. He has already chosen his favorite beach towel, a hand-me-down from Grandma Vera with lighthouses. We've heard from a friend that Wal-Mart has small pillows and pillowcases; we look down every aisle but can't find a one. Again, chipper: "Let's just go look at fabric! I'll make you one!" But the beginnings of needing to be like everyone else have surfaced: "Mom, let's ask and see if they have one like Conner's."
Six blue-shirted Wal-Mart employees are soon combing the aisles, all surprised that they seem to be out of these pillows so early. But in true triumphant style, one employee comes waving the very last pillow in stock. We have our nap pillow.
No pillow cases, but that is fine with the little man. He finds a baseball fabric that makes him happy.
After lunch, we talk about Mommy's kindergarten experiences, about his coming experiences, about how life changes. He seems a little more peaceful when we finish. I am proud of him, as always.
I leave the conversation fighting the urge to reinforce instead of loosen my apron strings, for one day I will be doing more than sending him to kindergarten with a lime green lunchbox and a baseball pillow.
My heart aches heavy with love.
I find a style that I think will hold his soy-butter and jelly sandwiches, his grapes, his cookies that I imagine I'll bake for him, his love note from me. I keep up the chipper voice: "What color do you like?" He seems a bit energized with the lime green. Lime green it is.
His is an all-day kindergarten, so a beach towel and small pillow for resting time are on the list of essentials. He has already chosen his favorite beach towel, a hand-me-down from Grandma Vera with lighthouses. We've heard from a friend that Wal-Mart has small pillows and pillowcases; we look down every aisle but can't find a one. Again, chipper: "Let's just go look at fabric! I'll make you one!" But the beginnings of needing to be like everyone else have surfaced: "Mom, let's ask and see if they have one like Conner's."
Six blue-shirted Wal-Mart employees are soon combing the aisles, all surprised that they seem to be out of these pillows so early. But in true triumphant style, one employee comes waving the very last pillow in stock. We have our nap pillow.
No pillow cases, but that is fine with the little man. He finds a baseball fabric that makes him happy.
After lunch, we talk about Mommy's kindergarten experiences, about his coming experiences, about how life changes. He seems a little more peaceful when we finish. I am proud of him, as always.
I leave the conversation fighting the urge to reinforce instead of loosen my apron strings, for one day I will be doing more than sending him to kindergarten with a lime green lunchbox and a baseball pillow.
My heart aches heavy with love.
So cute!
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