Dude looks little, doesn’t he?
He’s not little anymore though. He’ll be five in a month. He’ll be going to kindergarten in four months. He’s a big kid. (But he’s so little.)
I took Quinn to kindergarten orientation today. He was really excited. But he was also very nervous. He was absolutely uninterested in going anywhere without me. He was also uninterested in wearing a name tag, so I had to sneak it onto his back. He almost caught me.
When the people running orientation wanted to take his mug shot, he was displeased and made me sit with him. Yet he was okay posing for me.
I’ve been in those kindergarten classrooms so many times. But it’s kinda crazy that this time it’s Quinn sitting in those chairs. I’ve been waiting for him to go to kindergarten for so long, but I can’t quite believe he’s going to go.
He chilled out a little by the time a teacher took him to do their little let’s-figure-out-where-this-kid-belongs quick assessment. I was completely ready for him to refuse to do anything. I was happily surprised when he was compliant.
I was hanging out, you know, not hovering. Although I was the idiot parent with the fancy camera, per usual. In fact, I was the only parent taking pictures. Come to think of it, I guess I was hovering. (See how selfless I am in being a dork so that you can see these very important photos of Quinn getting schooled?)
making me the idiot parent with the non-working fancy camera.
Where was I? Oh, right. NOT hovering. I saw Quinn misidentify a lowercase “j” by calling it an “i”, but while going over numbers, he mentioned pi, so I’m pretty sure he’s going in the super-advanced class. But then again, when the teacher asked if he knew what pi meant, Quinn mumbled something about a “cooked pie.” So maybe he’ll go into the super-poseur class.
However, now that I think about it, the teacher then went off on a tangent about one being the loneliest number and how two can be as bad as one, but one is really the loneliest number—to which Quinn responded with a blank stare and I responded with my characteristic guffawing idiot laughter—so it’s entirely possible that we won’t even be allowed to enter school at all.
I have an ace in my pocket though in the case that the school decides I am too big of a dork to allow me to send a third child there. I’m pretty sure this pumpkin seed rhyme constitutes a legal contract.
Can you believe it though? My baby’s going to go to kindergarten. Be prepared for wildly vacillating mood swings from hysterical joy to maudlin retrospectivity. (It is too a word.)
* For you Dipshit Friday lovers.