Tuesday, August 21, 2012

The First Day

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 somewhere, right?

1 comment:

  1. Oh rats. Poor David. It is so hard to think about how nervous he must have been. I'm sorry, Kathy. I can only imagine how helpless you must feel as you watch the whole scene unfold. I would say, kudos to David on missing the tennis shoes, though! Next time, call. I always have wine handy....and the ability to figure out where we are enjoying a glass after five. Oh, and welcome to 7th grade. It will pass, and reappear....but your Andrew is still lurking in there somewhere!