Early Report Card

It’s been just about two weeks since the great seismic shift in our house that is Kindergarten. Here’s a report card of how that seems to be impacting each member of our little crew.

Mark (He never gets to start; tonight, you get the first word! Well, my first word, anyway.): There’s not much better than seeing a Daddy delight in his little girl. Having Emelyn in the same building with him is priceless. He brings her to school in the morning and walks down the hall to the elementary wing to pick her up at the end of each day. She hangs out in his classroom after school for a little bit, making use of his smart board and munching snacks from her lunch. The girl owns school. When Mark brings her in the morning, she won’t allow him to enter the school by the same door with her. We admire her independent spirit and her take the bull by its horns philosophy of life.  We just aren’t sure where she got it from! After a few days of school, Mark couldn’t help but slip down to the Kindergarten A room to find out what she’s like in class. I love that the advent of school has made his presence a greater focal point in her world. She loves it, too.

Emelyn doesn’t say much about school when she first gets home. I’ve been told this is typical for kids. They’re so tired at the end of the day, they need their down time just like we do.  So, we usually get a few spare reports at dinner or bedtime.  She is already reading words she didn’t know before, writing with lowercase letters, and making new friends while still playing with old ones.  I got a second party report that she and a friend got into a running match down the hall this week.  Assigned to milk duty, she and this little boy began walking faster and faster next to each other until they were running down the hall. “I wasn’t going to let her beat me, Mom!” explained her milk delivery partner.  “Well, who won?” asked his mom. “She did…But I had the cart!” (Picture a Little Tykes yellow and red shopping cart; this is how Kindergartners transport milk.) When I asked her if she had a race in the hall, E gave a shy smile and dropped her head. “No….” she drew out the word slow.

“Are you sure?” I asked. Because C thinks you did.”

Shy grin, eyes cast down. “Well, yes, actually.”

I high-fived her for winning, trying not to look too tickled while I suggested that maybe racing in the hall wasn’t the greatest idea. 

Later tonight, fatigue clearly setting in, she got very upset about doing something she shouldn’t have. With true drama, she wailed, “I’m just so scared when I do something bad! I don’t like having talks about it!” Though her consequence was mild and clearly logical, she still amped up her reaction.  A passerby might have thought she was the one wronged and her sister the perpetrator. Not so. Much has changed in her little world in a very short space of time, and I know my girl. Change is hard. She’s adapting marvelously given the demands of school. But we all wear thin in places when the current shifts and laps against our shore, creating new and unforeseen patterns. What I most notice, though, is how much older she clearly feels.  Even her posture is changed.  Making her own place in an environment where the mama bird isn’t forever hovering around her is good for my free spirited one.  I think one of the reasons she keeps her day secret is because it’s hers.  She won’t give it away for free.  I don’t think I expected anything less.

Audyn misses her big sister. She’s lost her constant playmate. The first couple of days she was lost without Emelyn, but she too has risen to the occasion. She’s embraced our home-school preschool time together, waking up each morning to ask, “When can we play school?”  In three days, she’s learned how to write her own name without help. Last Thursday, she went underwater for the first time.  After watching me do it once, she responded, “Mom, I want to do that, too.” I told her how to keep the water out of her mouth and nose and down she went—many, many times.  Each time she popped up with an enormous grin on her face that melted my heart in at least ten places.  She’s also assumed the job of picking up the house every afternoon, shutting me out of rooms because “I have a suh-pwise foh you, Mommy. Don’t wook untiwh I tewh you!” Twenty minutes later the house looks like it did at 6 a.m.!  We still have our battles about the bathroom and doing what is asked of her, but overall, I’m realizing that while I’ve been attending to Kaleb’s needs, my little Pip has grown up. And how big she is. I think I didn’t realize. And I think she’s far more capable of being her own person and of being a big girl than we ever gave her credit for.  I think her finest teacher, by far, has been her big sister. These lessons are a gift and a wonder both.

Kaleb seems to take all in stride, but oh how that boy’s face lights up when his biggest sister walks in the door each afternoon. I do believe he’s happiest when he has his whole family around him. And E just delights in every small thing he does.  “Look, Mommy, he’s…” she exclaims all afternoon and into the evening. Absence can make the heart grow fonder.  Tonight while pondering our future education choices for all our kiddos, I looked down at tiny boy grinning up at me from his crib and felt my heart fill. “Thank you, Jesus, for this little boy who teaches us to laugh at life. Thank you for the many, many gifts you’ve given him. And us.” He definitely has an important role in our family. We can be a pretty intense crew sometimes. Kaleb reminds us to laugh at ourselves more often, and to suck all the marrow out of everyday life.

I give the first two weeks a B+. We’re working out the kinks; we’re working through the change; but good fruit sprouts tender young on the vine.