When the Day Comes

Took Kai to the doctor's office yesterday morning because his right eye had been teary and it seemed to be bothering him quite a bit. At 9 o'clock, when the doctor's office opened, the waiting area was already packed with 5 parent-child sets along with their entourage: grandparents and/or Philipino maids. 3 of the kids had really phlegmy coughs, so Kai and I went outside to wait.

Directly opposite the doctor's office is a kindergarten. Kai and I watched as parents rushed to get their kids to school. It was quite entertaining to watch the dynamics between parents and their children. Pretty much every parent we saw was carrying the school backpack for the kid (is that normal for all parents with kindergarten-aged children?). Also, all the kids seemed to be ambivalent about what was going on.

My favorite was when a black Mercedes pulled up in front of the school. The car seemed humongous, for the school is situated in a narrow lane off of a big street. When the car came to a complete stop, both back doors swung open. Mom came out first. She had shiny silky straight hair like what you see in shampoo commercials. She was wearing a black pant suit and black leather boots. Out from the other door was the Philipino maid, carrying a backpack and a black suitcase on her right arm. As soon as she got out of the car, she docked her head back into the car and carried a little boy out in her arms. The boy, who's probably 4 or 5, was wearing a T-shirt, jeans, sneakers, and a baseball cap. He looked much more calm and mature than what I imagine 4-year-olds to be.

The mom stopped right outside the gate to the school. "Hurry up, please," she said firmly without looking at the maid. The Philipino maid, who's about 4 feet tall and she was carrying the 4-year-old boy, his backpack and the mom's suitcase, struggled to run around the back of the car. Right before they walked in the gate, the mom took the boy from the maid's arms, just in time to be greeted by the teacher.

Then a young dad arrived with his little boy standing between his legs on the foot rest of the scooter. With the black Mercedes blocking the entrance, the dad parked his scooter in front of an apartment building. The unsuspecting boy stood patiently while his dad helped take off his helmet. However, as soon as the duo approached the gate of the kindergarten, the boy's face started changing. Then, as if on cue, he burst out crying and pleading, "I don't want to go to school." "Daddy, I wanna stay with you." "Please, Daddy. I'll be good." "I don't want to go....." It was heart-breaking. I kissed the top of Kai's head and buried my nose in his hair. I closed my eyes and took a big whiff of that familiar smell of his apricot shampoo.

The dad finally got the boy in the gate, and a teacher greeted the boy with open arms and a huge smile. Her enthusiastic "Hi" sounded almost like a squeal. The boy's little face was red and covered in tears. He held on to his dad's hand with both hands. The dad actually looked like he was about to change his mind and take the boy home with him. He kept a straight face on the whole time, didn't even look at his little boy let along comforting him. He gave the overly cheerful teacher the boy and his backpack and started walking out the door. Panicking, the boy really cranked up the volume and intensity now. It must've been so hard for the dad not to turn around, hold the boy in his arms and say, "Okay. We don't have to go to school today." I know I would.

But I can't and I won't.

How do parents do it, leaving the kid with the teachers on the first day of school? I guess, like all things in life, you just do it when the time comes, huh?!

Bill's got his money down on the likelihood that I'm gonna be a bigger mess than Kai comes his first day at school. I know I'll probably be hysterical (and it's not in a funny kind of way) with maximum pride, excitement, relief, anticipation, nervousness, and doubt rushing through my veins all at the same time.

Note to self: bring lots of Kleenex... scratch that... bring a little towel for Mommy when the day comes.