So, kindergarten is at last upon us, and let me assure you, we were ready. After a solid month with two boys and one mommy in charge of all the fun at home, I was not really that weepy when my oldest clutched his new dinosaur lunch bag and ascended the school steps. I was too busy racing at top speed toward the nearest barstool. Sure, it’s a milestone, good for him, good for us, but really it means that my life just got a lot easier. I feel like looking down at my youngest and saying “So, tell me about yourself. You like trucks, huh?”
Due to the school calendar here, Big will actually be the youngest kid in his class. Yet another awesome thing about having Christmas as a birthday: he could be as much as 357 days younger than some of his classmates. In high school, it probably won’t matter too much, but in kindergarten, that’s kind of a big deal. And I think he’s been struggling with his search for his mature self.
Having a 4 1/2 year old (to me) seems kind of like having a kid who is 5 sometimes and 3 sometimes, and who is very rarely anything in between. He’s either solving rather complicated problems with novel solutions, sounding out words to read to himself, or he’s flinging himself around the apartment screaming because he wanted to lick the *other* beater when we made cake. Each day seems to be a toss up of how much time you get to spend with the 5 year old and how much time you have to spend with the 3 year old. Sometimes it’s 50/50. Other days it’s 90/10. And of course there are those days when it’s 10/90.
But maybe, if I put on my 6 month glasses, maybe it’s marginally inching toward more days spent with a kid who is 5 more than he’s 3. Maybe. I hope.