29 August 2004 - Nicky's First Day of School

Tomorrow, 30 Aug 2004, will be Nicky's first day of kindergarten. He's been wildly excited about it for a week now, going over the calendar with me to count off days, asking every 30-60 minutes if school will be on Monday (and, incidentially, would today happen to be Monday?), and looking at the photos of his classroom that we took last week.

Yesterday evening, it finally sunk in for Zack that Monday would be *Nicky's* first day at school, not his. Even though I've told him every time we talk about it that only Nicky is going, apparently he's just ignored that part and planned on going to school, too.

I saw the understanding sink into his head. The joy drained from his face, leaving a massive pout behind. He stamped his foot. "Want school!"

Nicky immediately asked for reassurance: "But I'm going to school on Monday, right?"

"Right, you're going," I said to Nicky. Zack brightened up, so I turned to him and said, "Only Nicky."

Zack started to cry. I realized I hadn't told him my plans for him while I was taking Nicky to school, so I quickly said, "Zacky, you'll get to play with Uncle Steve while Nicky's at school."

Zack said, "Don't *want* Uncle Steve. Want school!"

Nicky said, "Don't *want* school. Want Uncle Steve!"

I decided it would be a good time to distract them, so I made dinner, then we played until bedtime. Neither boy mentioned school or Uncle Steve again all evening, but as Nicky was heading off to bed, he said, "Don't want school."

I sighed and told him that he wanted school very much, that he would have fun, and that it would be okay. He shrugged and went to sleep.

This morning at 5:00 a.m., Zack woke me by poking my cheek repeatedly with a forefinger. When I opened my eyes, he told me to get into the car.

"Why?" I mumbled. "What do you want?"

"Uncle Steve," he said.

"Tomorrow," I told him. "This is Sunday. Tomorrow's Monday, and tomorrow you'll go to Uncle Steve's."

"Today!" he bawled at the top of his lungs.

"Shhh! Don't wake up your brother."

Miraculously, he toddled back to bed, settled down, and went to sleep. Just as I was falling back to sleep myself, Nicky climbed on top of me from out of nowhere, gave me a hug, and said, "School today."

"Tomorrow."

"Today!"

"Tomorrow."

He tugged on my arm. "Get up."

"No, it's still night. Go back to bed."

"School today."

"School tomorrow. Go to bed."

He tried to pull the covers off me. I grabbed an armful of the blanket and held on.

"Schooooooooooooooooooool," he whined.

"Tomorrow."

"Monday?"

"Yes, tomorrow's Monday. Tomorrow you go to school."

"Yogurt."

"Go to sleep!"

"Want yogurt! Want banana!"

"GO TO SLEEP!"

He slid off the bed and wandered around the room, poking at things, and flipping lights on and off until I was thoroughly awake.

I sighed, got up, took him by the arm and escorted him to his room. "Get in bed. Lie down. Sleep." I pointed out the window. "Look, it's still dark. Time to sleep now."

"Yogurt?"

"Later."

"Banana?"

"Later."

"School?"

"Tomorrow."

"Bubbles?"

"Shhh. Go to sleep."

He made a sound something like, "Grrr-hmmm," and closed his eyes.

I trudged back to my bed, tripping over the dog once and stubbing my toes twice. Why, oh why, do mornings have to happen so early in the day? Can't we have morning at a decent hour like noon?