As Ready as We're Gonna Get

Last night I cut his hair. We'd let it grow out over the summer and Holy Terror looked like one of the Beatles. Each snip was a reminder our family was reaching another phase of life. Not only our family, but Holy Terror himself. The first year is such a leap in growth.

*Sigh*

We couldn't keep him the Little Man forever. Oh, my heart wishes we could. Our little quiet mouse that first year grew into the hyper Huckleberry. Now, he'll reach out and start the seed of who he'll make himself into.

Yeah, we'll still have a big part for the many years. But this is the beginning. It's the first moment he finds something outside of the home. The first life bubble Mom and Dad didn't create and doesn't fully manage.

Those first 5 years before formal school are important for a reason. You are their sole world. Their only mentor. The one who decides where they hang and with who. Now, the teacher will slowly emerge as the main advisor. She'll have all day...we'll only get the evenings. He'll make friends of his own fruition. We'll only know them after the friendship has been initiated.

Oh, I'm getting all worked up. You'd think, as my third child to reach school age I'd be ready. Well I'm a goober, okay. I can't help it. I must over analyze, worry, and fret over every milestone.

...Mother, stop laughing. I hear you all the way over at my house...

Infamous

I hurry out of work. Halfway to the car, I run into a co-worker I hadn't seen in a while. We catch up on work news and kid news. I tell her about Holy Terror's kindergarten assessment.

"Oh yeah. Holy Terror." She laughs. "I'll always remember him as the little redhead who asked Santa if he and Frosty loved each other...and if they kissed."

...Only 5 and already infamous...

If you haven't been following for a while and wonder what I'm talking about, here's the post.

Meeting Mrs. Teacher

Holy Terror had his kindergarten assessment Wednesday. Needless to say, Hubby and I were a little worried. It's not that Holy Terror's a bad kid. Far from it. He's just...hyper.

Okay, okay. Sometimes he can make you think of the redhead from Problem Child, but most of the time he's just earnestly hyper and curious.

I drove home to meet them and we walked to school, Holy Terror leading the way. He got diverted, as usual, needing to know the what, whys, and hows of the neighborhood. When we finally got to the school, we entered his classroom and there waited Mrs. Teacher.

With a quick smile, wave, and "hey" he was quickly attracted to the classroom sites. Desks, chairs, wall calendars, reading area, toy area, whiteboard...On Mrs. Teacher's gesture, Hubby and I stayed in the background as she attempted to wrangle him to the curved table for his assessment.

I shouldn't say attempted. Mrs. Teacher was Mrs. Awesome Teacher. Guiding him without making him feel directed and adjusting conversation without making his questions feel ignored. They sat and she got started. We held our breath.

Holy Terror did fabulous! He cruised through writing his name, blasted through the colors, counted his way through numbers, and even complimented her on her prettiness.

The kid was a pro. Hubby and I sometimes feel people aren't going to be able to handle Holy Terror the way we can. It's always surprising and refreshing to see that, yes, Holy Terror does just fine in the real world beyond the Norris Ranch.

...Now we just have to stress over the first day...

School Shopping

Yes, that time of year. School shopping in itself is a battle. With now 3 kids heading to the classrooms, it's near torture. 3 individual tastes, 2 different age groups, and 6 people "joining in the fun".

Start with a quick dinner stop at Taco Bell. This entailed 4 kids telling me what they want at once, changing their minds 3 different times, several trips to the bathroom, and an argument with Super Wy about whether chips and cheese sauce were in fact called nachos.

Hauling them all back into the car, we headed out of town. Over the next 30 minutes it was:

"Get your hands back in the car." "No screaming." "Get your hands back in the car." "Don't yell at your brother." "Stop that weird noise." "Get your hands back in the car."

The parking of the car was signified by Holy Terror kicking open the door into the car parked next to us. After an argument where he thought the car parked too close, we held tight to the two toddlers and headed into the store.

Over laughing, tantrums, arguments, and eye rolling we managed to get most of the school clothes. By the time we reached the counter, Hubby was in his caveman mode of hunched back and solitary responses and I was wishing for medication.

Dropping by the beauty store for a mullet wig - Hubby friend's party thing...don't ask - we went home and unloaded the car. The boys were put to bed, kicking and screaming (them, not us), and I plopped onto the couch to take a breather. Hubby went to his meditation spot, the garage and his workbench.

It. Was. An. Ordeal. Let me tell ya'.

Now, we're good. That is until the school supply lists come home the first week of school.