June 28, 2010
I just dropped Noah off at his first day of summer camp, which is in his old preschool classroom, with his old preschool teacher, along with three or four of his old preschool classmates. None of which helped the case I was trying to build all last week about preschool being over and it not being my fault that I couldn't take him to preschool, I'm not saying this to be mean, Noah, there really just isn't any school but hey, thanks for letting me know that you truly would rather do anything else in the world than hang out with Mommy for a few measly days.
Last summer, Noah immediately became somewhat infamous at this camp for wedging his entire body into a cubby and refusing to come out for much of the first day.
Today, he and I got into a spirited discussion in the car about how five was his favorite number, and how five had been MY favorite number as a little girl too, and whether it was okay that we both had the same favorite number, because he didn't think so. I was like, whatever, I claimed five as my favorite number back in 1981, so like, DIBS DUDE.
When we arrived, Noah raced down to the classroom at top speed, shrieking, "HEY EVERYBODY, IT'S OKAY! I AM HERE NOW!" at a group of nervous-looking first-time campers. I tried to smile at all the nervous-looking first time camper-parents, while reciting "don't be a jackass don't be a jackass" to myself over and over again.
His teacher fretted over the fact that she couldn't remember where Noah's cubby had been during the school year and whether that would bother him. It didn't. Nor did the sight of new teachers and kids and different toys and switched-around furniture. There was a moment of hesitation when his visual schedule was missing, but he quickly decided that a day/month/season/weather chart hanging by the chalkboard was good enough. I'm not sure I've ever seen him so happy.
So now I'm camped out at a Barnes & Noble, frantically trying to cram six hours of work into the...less than three, that I actually have. I'm sitting next to the business section and I can see a good three or four substantially-sized books about marketing on fucking Twitter, are you kidding me, for real. Mamapop has a brand-new awesome design that I can't even see yet because something something name servers DNS propagation something talkyspeak.
It's okay, though. I'm going to pick him up in less than three hours and hear all about his day at Speech Camp. I'm going to hear all about his day at Speech Camp because Noah rocks at Speech Camp.
(Also at berry-picking and big-red-barn-seeing-omg-Mom-FINALLY.)