I was not ready for this day. Kindergarten registration. For my baby. She’s been talking about it for at least a year since we almost daily drive past the elementary school she’ll be attending.
We unloaded from the van with our necessary paperwork: birth certificate, social security card, shot records, utility bill and my driver’s license. As we walked to the doors, I pointed to the industrial quality doormat. “Look, you’re going to be a wildcat,” I said. “Just like Troy and Gabriella,” she responded. It was a good omen. If you can’t be in High School Musical, you can at least share their mascot.
Once we found the office, we signed in, they made our copies and handed us the forms. Filling it out onsite was optional and since library storytime was just minutes away, we decided to get them to-go.
As we were leaving, she started talking about her options for getting to school in the fall. It’s about a half-mile, tops, and we’d already discussed her riding her bike or scooter with me tagging along beside her. “I’ll tell you one thing,” she said. “I am not riding a bike with stabilizers on it.” Huh? “Do you mean training wheels?” I asked. (I am not making this up!) “Yeah, but I call them stabilizers,” she said.
I assured her she had an entire summer to learn how to ride her bike and that by the time school started she should be able to shed the stabilizers and ride on just two wheels. But what was I thinking? It’s bad enough she’s starting school and now I want her to be able to ride a two-wheeler? Let me off this roller coaster now—I’m getting nauseous!