You can tell the kids talked about Valentine’s Day last week at school. Simon, already a very affectionate boy, was in love overdrive. “I sure do love you, Mommy!” he’d randomly offer. My hand was taken and kissed multiple times a day. I got hugs all the time. He wanted to snuggle extra long every night. And every day he told me that he was my Valentine, my little bunny, and my sweet boy.
But all love has its limits, and for Simon, that limit is the threshold at KIP. Whereas once I walked him through the lobby, down the hall past the kitchen, up the stairs to the school, and into his room, I am now prohibited to accompany him past the front door. If he had his druthers, I’d never get out of the car.
Which is what happens on Tuesdays and Thursdays, when I have to drop Simon off in the carpool lane because Agotich is with me. Whereas this was once a cause of stress (“Who will walk me up today, Mommy?” he’d ask every morning), it is now a point of pride. Now that he knows he can walk up alone, it’s the only way he wants to go. Nor does he want to walk up with another KIP kid, parent, or teacher; these are strictly solo missions.
It’s gotten to the point that when I need to go into the school to check in on the computer lab, sign checks, or tell his teachers something, I have to wait until Simon has gone on his merry way and then go down a different hall and up a separate staircase that leads to the opposite end of the second floor. A part of me thinks I should call shenanigans and insist Simon let me walk up sometimes. I’m in charge, right? But the much greater part of me is happy to see this independent streak emerge and is willing to indulge it if it boosts his confidence.
Nah, let him be. The independence is mostly illusory anyway–you watch him go in, make sure he gets there, etc. But it’s important he feels independent.