Dear Son #1 & #2,
I had big plans. Huge plans. After the March Break that lasted 545 days, we weren’t letting all of our hard work go down the drain once summer vacation hit. We weren’t going to slack off and forget everything we painstakingly learned throughout the year. I wasn’t going to allow it. No way. You were both going to be going to school in September with heads jammed full of all the knowledge that you obtained while I was your co-teacher; shining with social skills and abilities that reflected a dynamic and diverse environment; smiling with upmost confidence in your abilities to write your letters, sound out words and sentences—maybe even read! I was going to do everything I could to make that happen because Heaven forbid you would be behind in any developmental skill when September came.
Never mind that you hadn’t been to physical school or daycare in a year and a half.
Never mind that you saw the same people in our “bubble” for months on end.
Never mind that it was a battle every day to get you logged on to Google Classroom, to write in your journal, and to sit still for more than 5 seconds at a time.
Never mind that many “school days” ended with all of us in tears.
Never mind that by May, we were done with school and everything related to it.
This September, you were going to be ready.
This summer we were going to do our workbooks, Reading Eggs, and RAZ kids. We were going to read multiple books every single day and practice our writing, counting, drawing and coloring. We were going to practice our full names and our tracing. We were going to stick to the plan.
But we didn’t. We did do other things instead.
We got messy.
We got dirty.
We got snacks.
We got adventurous.
We got creative.
We got dressed up.
We got silly.
We got snuggly.
We got a new bedroom.
We got wet.
We got sandy.
We got fish.
We got daring.
We got tired.
Then the week before school we realized no one’s shoes fit them, so…
We got shoes.
I’m sorry if you’re not ready to put pencil to paper, sit still, or spell your name. I’m sorry if you have trouble adjusting to the structure, the listening, and the amount of clothes you are required to wear. I’m sorry if you’re behind in any way, shape or form. I’m sorry to your teachers and wish them all the luck in the world as I joyfully load you on to the bus for seven hours of only-one-child-bliss.
I’m not sorry for this amazing summer that we had though, and these memories are worth far more to me than you being prepared for school. #badmom.
Have a great first week boys, I know we’re all feeling all kinds of emotions—joy, relief, anxiety, fear, sadness, and excitement—so don’t be alarmed if I’m rocking an embarrassingly jiggly happy dance and sobbing hysterically while eating Reese’s Pieces the next. It’s normal. I think.
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