I need to remember to add saltine crackers to the school supply list.
Some families have really fun
first day of school traditions—maybe they make a special breakfast or have an
ice cream cone on the way home. Some
parents take photos of their kids holding a sign to commemorate the first day
in each grade, or mark their child’s height inside a door frame.
But our family? Well, we have vomit.
Andrew started the
tradition by getting the stomach flu just in time for his first day of fourth
grade. Fortunately, that has been the
only time he has felt it necessary to participate.
Apparently, David has
recently decided to continue the tradition by throwing up on the first day of summer school and then he
gave an encore performance yesterday, the first day of first grade.
Interestingly, he manages
to make it almost the whole way through the day and just about the time that I
am glancing at the clock, breathing a sigh of relief, thinking that we can put
the first day behind us, I get the call—the fated call that always begins with
the words, “Hello, is this David’s Mom?”
I have to give the kid
credit, however, because he managed to perfect his technique to avoid his brand
new, Stride Rite tennis shoes, the
very same shoes we have worked so hard to get him to wear in the first place.
So yesterday, I made a mad
dash to David’s school to pick up my not really sick child. And instead of enjoying an after school popsicle
on the front porch, we had an afternoon filled with reenactments of the disturbing
event, punctuated with very few words because David really was too upset to
talk about it. Choke…sick…floor…tummy.
I have been looking
forward to the first day of school since, if I am being honest, the last day of
school last year. But, when you take
David’s nervous stomach and combine with one sulky seventh grader, then add a
husband’s late work meeting, plus a missing SpongeBob lunch bag and shake, you get a recipe for an early happy
hour at my house.
Hey, it’s always five o’clock