What Aidan Learned in Kindergarten

If you've read my previous blog about my two grandchildren starting kindergarten a couple of weeks ago, you'll know that it was heart wrenching for me to see them flung into the big world. They seemed so small, so vulnerable.  Well, I'm here to report that they are doing well and negotiating their new environments with all the sharply honed skills of  CIA operatives in training. Especially Aiden for whom I was most concerned. He has been observing his peers, learning the subculture of school, and figuring out how to crack the system all in his first week.

Aiden has an October birthday so he is still 4 years old. He's a little smaller than the other kids, but has charm and intelligence, a winning smile with a gorgeous dimple, and beautiful, light blue eyes. I know he can get anything he wants out of me. The first day of school all went well. Aiden went to the after-school program for a few hours, found the bathroom, ate his lunch, made friends with a beauty named Ella.

The second day, however, his lunch disappeared. He had enough guts to tell the teacher, he didn't suffer in silence, which is good. He spoke up for himself. The adults went into protective mode. He was personally walked down to the cafeteria, an account was set up, and not only that. The cafeteria lady said with a smile, "Honey, would you like regular or chocolate milk?" 

Aiden was in heaven. Why only his Grandma had given him chocolate milk! Mac and cheese, pizza, corn dogs, CHOCOLATE milk, for crying out loud. A whole new world opened up for him. He went home and told his parents, "Do you know they have a restaurant for kids at the school?"

Day three. Aiden has his lunch with him, but he's thinking to himself, "How do I get back to that wonderful place?"  So what he did was: he ate his lunch and  his snack at the morning snack time. Again he was walked down to the cafeteria, ordered lunch AND chocolate milk and put it on his parents tab.

His explanation was that he had to do it. His lunch was gone already. The good news is this:  he is still innocent enough to confess, but  it won't work a second time. I think he's going to be just fine.

Like Puppies at the Pound...

Aiden watches for me through the big window in his classroom. He is so happy to see me that he runs at me yelling ,"Gramma!” throwing his arms around my thighs. "Why don't we go outside and take some action shots, sweetie?" He takes my hand to lead me outside.

I brought my camera to take his picture at the new school. I said “Smile, Aiden” and he gave me this twisted forced camera smile. I said, “Knock it off, handsome. Just show me your dimples.” And he did, while hanging from the jungle gym and flying down the slide. Just a few weeks ago he was afraid of trying these things, now he's an expert.

All the attention starved children at his school come outside to follow me all over the playground, wanting me  to take their picture, wanting to talk, wanting me to notice them. I’m some sort of grandmother archetype to the under 4 set. They act like attention starved puppies at the pound. It’s too sad. Except for a tiny Asian girl had just woken up from her nap, sort of hysterical, with snot all running down her nose into her mouth. She looked at me and screamed.

Aiden and I went straight home where we watched an hour of Berenstein Bears, then vacuumed and emptied the diswasher, two of Aiden’s favorite activities. We set the table and started making a  dinner of vegeburgers and tomatoes. I cut the tomatoes into a half way slice and gave Aiden a butter knife to finish going through them. He loved it.

My son, Randy walked in and Aiden said, “Dinner’s ready."  Once again, Aiden wants me out the door pronto. I think he can't take the heady stimulation of all of his parents and me all at once.

He yells, “See you tomorrow, Gramma," as he pushes me out the door.