The Night Before First Grade

There is a post I wrote a couple years ago, though it seems more like days ago.  It was about Cortlan starting preschool.  I read it and could hardly believe how much has changed since then, and how much has stayed the same.  (Read it here.)

Tomorrow, my little boy starts first grade.

Many parents do the whole "I can't believe my son/daughter is going to Kindergarten!" thing.  I got to put that off for a year, as Cortlan attended Kindergarten at the same school he had gone to for years.  There wasn't much new about it except the advancing curriculum and a different teacher.  There was no bus.  There was no buying/packing lunch.  His same friends were there.  It was the same drop off procedure...the same routine.

Tomorrow, Cortlan starts first grade.  And everything is going to be different.  And he is entering a whole new world.  And I am doing the whole "I can't believe my son is going to first grade!" thing.

I went to his "Meet the teacher" night yesterday.  I sat in his little desk, the one with his name attached.  I looked around and took it all in.  His teacher seemed so nice.  In the folder on his desk were papers that I needed to complete.  What bus number is he?  (I texted John to look on the fridge to find out.)  Would you like to sign up to be a guest reader?  (I would love to.)  What are Cortlan's strengths and weaknesses?  (You only gave me three lines to tell you?!)  And included in the folder was a poem with a baggie of magic confetti attached to it:

I started to tear up a bit when I read it and I thought about what a huge change this is going to be in so many ways.  When asked (and sometimes when not), I have mentioned that Cortlan is nervous about starting first grade.  But, maybe it is just me.  Maybe, I am not quite ready.  But he is.

Today, I showed him the papers that he had to fill out before his first day, fully anticipating that they would be met with resistance.  He enthusiastically completed them.  I read to him about the project that he had to do.  He quickly found five objects that would help him tell about himself to put in a brown bag:  A lego man holding a beaker and wearing a sign that says "I love science," a picture of our family, a cork, a rock, and a lego pizza (because that is his current favorite food).  

He excitedly (and with great precision and as if he had years of experience) made his own lunch, an idea that I proposed without much hope, an idea that he jumped on with more enthusiasm than I could have imagined:

And as I watched him carefully spread the peanut butter from edge to edge and scoop the yogurt into a container without spilling a drop and pick out just the right grapes and fold his napkin just so, I realized that he is far more ready for this than I will ever be.

Tomorrow, we don't get to put him on the bus and wave goodbye with tears in our eyes.  We will instead drop him at the school quite a while before the rest of his classmates will get there.  (And that is ok with me.  I will cherish that four minute drive and walking him into the building and the hug goodbye for as long as I possibly can.)

Tomorrow, we will be the ones anxiously and proudly waiting at the bus stop with a camera to see our first grader step off of the bus for the first time, with what I am guessing will be a huge, yet exhausted grin on his face.  I hope I can capture it.  And I am sure there will be tears in my eyes.

Tonight, Cortlan went to bed with Magic Confetti near his pillow.

I wish I had some.