Math and Munchies

I spent an hour and a half at my bigger little girl’s school a few weeks ago. It was only the second time that I’d left my baby for more than an hour or so. (For the record, she was fine. Again.)

I arrived at M’s school and checked in at the office. I made myself comfortable and put my coat in her locker, which, I was amused to note, was open, because it could not be closed.

The locker is not very wide; I’ll give her that. It takes some creativity to fit a foot-wide (at least) backpack in a 4- to 5-inch wide space.

I found her lunch box at the bottom, with her backpack stuffed on top. Her P.E. shoes were stashed above those. Her coat, interestingly enough, was shoved in the small shelf at the top of the locker. How she manages to cram the puffy winter coat into approximately 4 square inches is a mystery to me.

Since the hooks of the locker (from which coats and backpacks are designed to hang) were completely devoid of hanging objects, I removed my coat and hung it from one of the hooks.

Looking up, I noted that the first-graders were starting to gather in the hallway for the program. Seconds after my brain registered the kids in the hall, I noted the blonde-haired, blue-dressed jumping bean in the hall waving to me.

I wondered if my child might be a little excited.

I attempted to corral my wild horse while trying to listen to the instructions of the faculty.

M and I began our math escapades in the computer lab. It wasn’t a great beginning because neither of us knew what we were supposed to be doing. I mostly sat while my daughter played games on the computer. I’ll be honest. I contemplated why I was there.

The rest of the math games they’d set up were fun, however. They were interactive, we had instructions that us (dumb) parents could read, and I had a chance to see my intelligent little girl in action.

M, the social being that she is, took at least 20 minutes to stop looking around to see what the other kids were doing. It reminded me of watching the video of my college graduation. I’m there in my graduation gown, my family is there, and instead of enjoying them, I’m looking around for my public relations professor, who, incidentally, never shows up.

I tried to share with M the knowledge I’d learned: Hey! I’m here for you! Let’s not worry about what everyone else is doing!

Naturally, she didn’t care and didn’t see my point because she’s six and I was twenty-three and didn’t get it.

By the end of the scant hour and a half, though, Miss M was there, and protective of her time with me. Which, honestly, I’m surprised she wasn’t more demanding of my exclusive attention. However, she’s been through having a younger sibling and shone in the role of big sister before. So maybe I shouldn’t be so surprised that my little BIG girl is so smart, and socially intelligent, and beautiful on the inside too.

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