Tuesday, 5 February 2013

School Bros.

Rocco started big school yesterday. Neither of us cried. Dave asked him last night at dinner how many people in his class.

"Um, about a hundred and fifty thousand."

There's such a revolting feeling when your child starts kindy. Who will help them open their crackers? How can they possibly go to a bathroom stall by themselves? The sports field is SO BIG, and they are SO LITTLE. And weren't they just covered in vernix? How can this happen?

So we have one boy in kindy and one boy in year six, at the same school for the only time in their lives. I keep telling Max in my best Rizzo voice that he's gonna "Ruuule the school."

By the time I was his age, I had already been to five schools. I tell him that because he is so strong and tall and popular, he has a duty to watch out for kids who need his help, who might be bullied. He tells me he does - I hope he does.

As soon as they got home yesterday they drank a full cup of juice each, put on their boxing gloves, and ran out to the trampoline to punch the crap out of each other.


They took a shower together and did armfarts. Ate dinner side-by-side, then the three of us played Donkey Kong on the wii until bedtime. (Gaming with my kids is quite the joyful parenting moment.)

This morning we woke up and did it all again - the lunches, the dropoff, the uniforms.

Today I cried. They walked in together and I realised that the first day of kindy never ends. No matter how old they are I'll always be amazed, watching them go off into the world.

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