For the most part, all the rules and restrictions that accompany kindergarten are not hard for Simon. He likes rules (maybe a little too much; no one likes the narc), and he finds it easy to follow them.
Still, knowing that you have to eat a certain way, work a certain way, talk a certain way, walk a certain way, and even get a drink of water a certain way must be exhausting. After six (and 3/4) hours of it, I can see the cracks in Simon’s facade begin to form on our ride home. Here’s what it sounds like:
“Hey Mama, Guess what?”
“I don’t know, wh—”
“Today I had to do my job all alone! Ayokunie didn’t help me at all!”
“Oh, what ha—”
“He was looking for his backpack so I had to do it all.”
“Well, I ca—”
“And oh yeah mama, you don’t know this, but guess how high I jumped today?”
“How h—”
“I jumped like 18 feet!”
“18 fee—”
“Yeah, and that guy who is the king of the monkey bars, he only jumped like 12 feet.”
“What was your special area to—”
“And mama? Guess What?”
“Wh—”
“Mr. Sowder HATES McDonald’s.”
“Did he te—”
“He told us. He says he never, ever eats there.”
“Well I do—-”
“And Mama? Guess what?”
Is there a point to guessing? It goes like this for the full 20-25 minutes it takes to get home. He must hold his words in school the same way he holds his breath underwater; once he arrives in the safety of the car they come pouring out of him with a rush loudness that indicates their urgency.
The first day or so this happened, I admonished Simon for interrupting me. Now that I understand what’s happening, I just let the words wash over me and smile. After all, he CAN hold them all day (I couldn’t, thus the so-so conduct grades). And more importantly, he’s eager to tell me everything. I know I should especially enjoy that latter bit while it holds true.