sloooowly getting better

Although Greg comes home in the afternoon all full of chatter about kindergarten, mornings are still kind of crappy.  The crying starts around 7:30.  "I'm not going! I want to stay home with you and my toys! I hate it! I won't go!"

The crying continues through our walk to school, which means I hold his hand the whole way, usually dragging him behind me, sometimes picking him up and carrying him over my shoulder.  He spends the whole time shouting mean things about kindergarten. "Kindergarten is a giant snake! I hate it! I want to throw kindergarten in the trash!"

I have no idea where "kindergarten is a giant snake" came from. 

He tries to pry my hands from his, and if he succeeds he makes a break for home. 

On the playground where we line up, he ceases with the yelling mean things and just shrieks. Loudly. Giant tears running down his face, high-pitched keening coming out his throat.  There are other kids crying on the playground, but no one with such theatrical manner.  And it is theatrical--he's putting his best effort into it. 

Apparently he stops crying the second he walks in the building.  He tells me this too.  "I didn't cry at lunch. Even though you left me." (Ouch.)

Today's epithets were "kindergarten is big giant jerk! Did you hear me?! I said jerk! Kindergarten is a big giant jerk!"

Ok, that's fine, you don't have to like it. But you still have to go.

Today we get to school. No screaming.  He puts his stuff on line.  We see some classmates, we chat with them.  I tell one girl how pretty her nice shiny shoes are, and that Greg also has shiny shoes. Greg proudly agrees and displays his shoes so she can see better.  "I have white shiny shoes! They gleam in the sun, dontcha see? Nice, right?"  (Yes, he really said they gleam in the sun. Kid watches too much Thomas the Train.)

The little girl's grandma gives me the thumbs up sign.  As other parents and children make their way onto line, more parents give me  "way to go" smiles and we get a couple of "doing better, eh".  Parents of children not even in Greg's class are giving me thumbs up sign.  Oh my lord, I'm blushing.  I've been so focused on Greg the whole time I wasn't thinking that we were being stared at by 200+ kindergarteners and their parents for the past week.

He skips happily into school, tells me he'll see me at pickup time. 

I haven't told him he's starting soccer practice this evening.  I'll spring that about 15 minutes before.