V’s Bookish Friend

Vincenzo has made a friend at school.  He is described as the “boy in the gray shirt” and fortunately he has worn a gray shirt on both days of school so far, so V has been able to identify him.  (There was another boy in a striped shirt on the first day but he must have changed clothes because V didn’t mention him on the second day.)

Today V managed to catch his friend’s name.  I asked for clarification a couple times, but V assured me I was hearing him correctly.  His new friend’s name is Reed Book.  Or maybe it’s Reedbook?  He was a little unclear on that point.

I seriously don’t know how to end this post.  I really hope the kid’s name isn’t really Reed Book because Mr. and Mrs. Book might not love coming across this blog post someday.  They also won’t like it when I keep asking if we can “book a playdate” with their son and asking if they might be Finnish, by chance. 

(Get it?  Finnish Books?”)

Thoughtless Thursday: Summer finally came

It’s not completely thoughtless today: Yesterday when I told my mom about the kindergarten bus snafu, she told me that on my first day of kindergarten she walked me to the bus stop bright and early, waved good-bye, then came home and got a call from the school office.  I was actually in PM kindergarten, not AM, so could she please come down to the school office and pick me up? 

The best part of mom’s story is that I don’t even remember the incident at all.





I was better at preschool

Kevin and I went to kindergarten orientation last week.  I followed the teacher’s instructions to fill out a sticky note with Vincenzo’s name and the word “bus” and stick it on the transportation chart.  Later we noticed that everyone else had included the parents’ names and phone numbers, as the teacher had apparently also instructed.  I whined to Kevin, “Kindergarten’s haaaaarrrd,” as I added the new information to the sticky note. 

I didn’t realize just how hard kindergarten was, though, until I got home and noticed the aforementioned sticky note on top of my parent info packet instead of on the chart at school like it was supposed to be.  I didn’t know then that that was the easy part of kindergarten.

Despite my careful planning and neurotic double-checking of the bus schedule, we somehow showed up at the bus stop just as the bus was pulling up and we had to run the last 20 yards.  On the first day of school.  Ever.  Nice.


(First bus ride picture blurry because, like I said—running.)

I had decided to drive down to the school after seeing V on the bus so I could drop off the bulky supplies that wouldn’t fit in his backpack.  I got there just after the first bell rang and I headed straight to the classroom.  There were the kindergarteners, bowed over coloring sheets at their tables already only…there was no Vincenzo.  NO VINCENZO.  In the right classroom, with the right teacher, the son I had put on the bus 30 minutes earlier was NOT THERE.  And the teacher HAD NOT SEEN HIM.

I jetted down to the office where there was a long line of parents waiting to talk to the secretary, and I was just about to butt to the front of the line because I don’t know what their problems where but I was pretty sure none of them had LOST THEIR FRIGGIN’ FIVE-YEAR-OLD ON THE FIRST DAY OF FRIGGIN’ KINDERGARTEN…

…when a blessed angel wearing a fluorescent orange safety vest came plowing through the crowd, holding my son’s hand.  He was clutching his teddy bear and looking a little disoriented, but nothing like the complete panicky maniac I felt like, especially when I realized the reason for the mix-up was because I hadn’t pinned the paper with his information on it to his shirt, as instructed at parent orientation night.  If I had, he would have had an adult escort him from the bus to his teacher.

We walked to the classroom and Vincenzo flashed me the thumbs’ up sign.  I’m so glad he’s him and not me.


As soon as I got in the car I started crying, and I’ve been crying off and on ever since—not just for my mistakes but because I think I was lying when I said I wasn’t going to get sappy about my firstborn baby going to school, to a place where he could be lost for half an hour and nobody might notice.

Kindergarten is hard.


But maybe only for one of us.

New Tarzan on the Block

You know it’s been a rough night when your two-year-old wakes up like this:


I would have loved to see how it all went down in the middle of the night.


He looked so cute, though, that I left his shirt that way and called him “Sleevie Wonder” all day.  My kids have every reason to turn on me some day.  (Actually, I’m pretty sure they already have.)

No sappy kindergarten post from THIS mother

(And my apologies to anyone who has written a sappy kindergarten post.  I probably read it and bawled my eyes out.)

Vincenzo: No, Rocco, don’t put that car on my leg.
Rocco: Uh-HUH put car leg!
Vincenzo: No, ROCCO.  NO!
Rocco: MOM!

Vincenzo: No, Rocco, don’t take that piece of apple.  You already have one.
Rocco: Uh-HUH have apple!  Rocco TEN apple.
Vincenzo: No, Rocco!  Put them down!
Rocco: *throws apples at Vincenzo*
Vincenzo: MOM!

I spent ten minutes of a car ride yesterday mediating a  screaming fight over who got to touch what part of the diaper bag in the backseat.

For some reason, I don’t think I’m going to be crying when Vincenzo heads off to his first day of kindergarten.

At least not sad tears.

(And for the future Vincenzo who is reading this, I’m not saying you’re at fault or that I can’t wait to get rid of you.  You’re actually a blast to hang out with and neither you nor Rocco is at fault—you two just really need a break from each other right now.  Really, this has nothing at all to do with me needing a break…)