Whew! The first week of school was exhausting, and it was for Sam, too! I always forget the many peaks and valleys that take place within the few short days, the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. Just like in Tale of Two Cities, "it was the best of times; it was the worst of times."
On the second day of school, Sam was really excited about the new friend he made. He didn't know his name, but that didn't matter. If you could pretend that your arms are light sabers and have a battle, then you were friends, names or no names.
As I wrote in the last post, Sam LOVED his first day of first grade. However, as I waited for the bus to drop him off after the second day of school, I couldn't help but wonder if it could possibly have been as good as the first day. Hmmmnnnn... As the bus careened up and screeched to a stop, the kids started to happily amble off. Sam trudged off, his face flushed. To channel Scooby-freaking-Doo, "Ruh-roh!" Was this a 'good' flush or a 'bad' flush? As if to reassure me, he looked up and said, "The second day was still good!" Yahoo!
On the walk home, he was silent, dead silent, which was odd.
"Are you OK?" I kept asking.
He replied, "Yup," and then was wordless again.
"Is something wrong?" I asked. Oh my gosh, with a flash I realized he was so tired he couldn't even talk. That he was so exhausted and still said it was another good day is quite impressive! Oh, and tired he was. I've never seen him so tired -- ever. He was all weepy, clingy, and a downright certified mess (if there was a such a certification of course.) I let him watch TV for a while and went upstairs.
Within the next twenty minutes, he had watched the most terrifying Scooby Doo of all times and was rattled to the core. Dang that Scooby Doo! Why did an entire mansion have to get swallowed up into the ground on today of all days? Well, that was all Sam could talk about, think about, stress about until bedtime and beyond.
Then at bedtime he wanted me to stay with him, lie in the bed with him in his wee twin, sleep with him all night, not leave the room for a second, etc. You've got the drift! Good Lord, I wanted to wring Hanna Barbera's neck! This was a kids' cartoon -- why did it have to be so diabolical? (I am borrowing Sam's word there -- he was the first to call it "diabolical." Glad he has that SAT word down early!)
So I kept repeating and having him repeat over and over, "It's just a cartoon," "It's not real," and so on, but it really didn't help a whole lot. Heck, he was even still saying it in his sleep, still all freaked out. Even the next morning, he was still obsessed with that ridiculously sinister cartoon! See if I buy any more Scooby Snacks after this ordeal?! No way! That'll learn 'em!
Getting off the bus on Thursday, he was deliriously tired but said that it was "still good." Wow! Daddy Mac and I were supposed to go to a dinner, but I decided to stay home. Sam was still way too worked up for us both to head out for the evening. Thankfully I had him alone in his bed, asleep at 8 PM, a totally unusual event. Hallelujah!
On Friday morning he bounded up out of bed, back to his regular (or as he used to say,"reg-lee-ar") self again. When I went into the cafeteria to help out at lunch, he was totally nonchalant. He really didn't care whether I was there or not. At the end he was off without a wave.
Reflecting back on it, I have never been so happy to not receive a wave. He was hitting his first grade stride, later telling me that kindergarteners are "puny."
Look out, world! There's a Big Man on Campus!
LibbY
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