Tuesday, May 26, 2009

In Which I Realize the Value of Full Disclosure (And Also Get a Little Sappy)

Last week, my son went on a field trip with his preschool. It was his first time riding on a bus and it was a coach bus (although I was informed it did NOT have a toilet on the bus like I assumed all coach buses did...thanks for that fake-coach bus).

The excitement for this outing had been building for weeks. If you have any experience with exuberant 4-year-olds you know how hard it is to contain that enthusiasm. I often do not reveal plans until the day before just for this reason. For those of you who do not have kids, or have younger kids, let me tell you you will be asked approximately every 5- to 10-minutes when the exciting trip is going to happen if you make the rookie mistake of telling your child about it in advance. I had no control in this case. His preschool teachers told the kids about the trip weeks ago so they could prepare, or as I like to call it, so they could drive the parents nuts. (I'm reminded of the gargantuan "robot" of garbage my son brought home earlier in the school year. Why do his teachers hate me?)

Finally the day arrived and it coincided with the day that the builder came out to the house to start putting together the walls of the addition. K was more frenetic than an ant on a smashed hill. He was torn between shadowing Rick, the builder, and wanting to go to Oxbow Park (on the bus!) with his class. Eventually the bus and the trip won out, mostly because I think K had already exhausted every question he could come up with about the building process within a half an hour. Kudos to Rick who seemed to take the incessant questions in good humor. He, himself is a dad to three, although his kids are older now. I told K to stay out of Rick's way but he informed me, rather emphatically, he WANTS me to follow him MOM! So I stand corrected there.

So we arrived at K's school and the bus was parked in the street awaiting its kid cargo. The kids posed for photos in front of the bus and all donned their foam visors they'd made specifically for the day. A few of the kids were reticent, but even they came around and boarded the bus with their friends.

The moment for K to board came and he sought me out. There were hugs and kisses and the always, always, always uttered "I love you Buddy" before he was gone, bounding up the stairs that seemed too big for his little legs to scale. The windows of the bus were tinted such that I couldn't make out which of the little faces looking out was my son's so I just began blindly waving to any form that seemed to be looking in my direction.

I was thankful for my sunglasses as some of the other parents began to joke about enjoying their free time. I knew I'd get some errands done while K was at school, but my eyes teared up as the bus pulled away. His first solo field trip. On a bus (even though it had no toilet-man the credibility just gets shot down all the time). Riding away from me. Away from me.

Away from me. Just as kids are supposed to do as they get older. We are preparing them to leave us. Who thought of this aspect of parenting anyway? I don't think I like it.

So I turned away from my friends, those other parents who seemed so cheerful, so happy to see their kids riding away. I'm thinking the first day of Kindergarten isn't any easier when it's your second child. It's not, is it?

But when I went to pick K up from school, the bus had just arrived back at the school and I had just missed seeing K disembark from the bus. The kids went into the building to go potty or whatever and I watched that bus pull away. Thank you for delivering my boy back safely.

So I waited in the car line for the teachers to bring the kids back out. I was excited to hear all about the cool animals K had seen at Oxbow Park (although technically Zollman Zoo) and was a bit taken aback when he emerged with a frown on his face.

What's the matter Buddy? I asked, wondering if he'd had a falling out with a friend or something.

That was no park, he told me. You all lied to me. All I saw was a bunch of animals. There wasn't a park. It was boring.

So apparently I sent a preschooler and got back a teenager. Sigh.

9 people like me!:

Awesome Mom said...

lol they do grow up very fast

Madeline said...

Ha! They can be so darn dramatic sometimes. :)

anymommy said...

So bitter sweet. It just doesn't get any easier to watch them grow, does it?

Sarah @ BecomingSarah.com said...

Does that mean that he'll outgrow the teenage stage before he's actually a teenager? Cuz I mean, that'd be cool, right?

Lol, they can be so dramatic =P

Life As I Know It said...

oh dear...it does start early, huh? My preschooler has come out with some zingers I would expect from a 13 year old this year, too.

Damselfly said...

Hahaha! Perfectly written. They grow into teens so fast. And yet ... it's nice to know he still likes parks too. :)

Kelly said...

I have an almost three year old and I would feel weird sending her away too. She's only ever been watched by family so far. And even at three the girl has attitude like your son. I don't even want to know what she is going to be like as a teenager

louann said...

You sent of a pre schooler and got a teenager a few hours later! LOL.

I don't reveal plans until MINUTES before they are supposed to happen because I will NEVER hear the end of it! Drives me nuts! Makes me laugh and cry at the same time! LOL.

chelle said...

ugh I am always sad when my kids are out on their own in the world. They grow up way too fast!

 
Blog Designed by : NW Designs