- We put Henry on the bus without his backpack. I only realized this because my neighbor who had followed her daughter to school at the daughter's insistence had been informed by said daughter, and my and Henry's new favorite person that "Henry doesn't have his backpack and he is really sad. Can't you do something about it?" Moments after she informed me the school called and inquired if I "had my son's backpack." So Lucy and I sped over to the school, where we were informed that "these things happen all the time" and actually not made to feel like we were the worst mom/sister combo in existence.
- Henry got off the bus wearing a different shirt than he wore to school. And it wasn't his either. Apparently he had yet another nosebleed and this shirt was salvaged from the lost and found. *This was all on the first day!*
- On the second day he hit a kid over the head with his lunch bag because the kid said, "my lunch is gooder than yours." Henry is NOT a fan of poor grammar. So the school sent a note home and we discussed it with him. He understands to use words instead of fists when someone mangles the English language. He did much better today, the third day, when he came home with his shirt covered merely with jelly. He reported being a good listener, that other kids were throwing rocks, and that he met a girl named Lexi in the cafeteria.
- This has nothing to do with Kindergarten, it's just funny. I got a call from the UB Swimming program (Thanks to Karen for the suggestion, if you are reading this!) I had mailed them a check for Henry's swim lessons and filled out the payee section and the amount but not the date, the written amount, or um, oh yeah, I didn't sign it either. My Dad works at the University, so he offered to go over and pay the debt for me and pick up the check.
With Henry starting school I have been so preoccupied that I have been barely able to accomplish simple tasks like posting to this blog, or paying bills. It's so hard to function without him around because not only am I worried about how is day is going, and feeling sad about this big change in our lives, but I keep expecting him to be here, needing some juice or his lunch or something. It is so difficult to accept that he is actually old enough to be gone from the house for half a day and ride the bus and come home merely covered in his own blood on a hard day, or on a good day, its just jelly.