Nate has school on Monday and Wednesday mornings... Nate is fragile. School is new to him. He still isn't sure how he feels about it. But Max is sure.
Every Monday and Wednesday we get up, get breakfast, talk about school like it's the greatest thing ever. We psych him up...we get his little backpack on and we go to school. Nate skips along into the Downers Grove Park District Lincoln Center with a purpose. He's gonna do this school thing...he's on a mission. Then, we see (and hear) it...it's Max. Max is screaming and throwing himself on the ground. He's acting as if the minute that classroom door is closed, they are going to bind his hands and feet, duck tape his mouth and eat cupcakes in front of him. There is no way in hell Max is going in that classroom without being shoved in unwillingly. His mother and grandmother are shouting things like, "It's okay, Max...you'll be fine" and "Remember Max, you'll get skittles and a toy car."
Up to this point, Nate has been fine. But then he sees Max and Nate's little wheels start turning. It's like, "What if this kid knows something I don't?" "He must know something...maybe I should cry too." And, that's just what happens. "No, Mommy, I want to go home!!!! Please don't leave me here!"
Max has set off a tidal wave of tears throughout the entire hallway. (Not to self, get to preschool much earlier than Max...get Nate into the classroom first).
Then, the preschool doors close. The kids are trapped. They block off the windows on the door so that the kids can't see the parents and we can't see them. It's like standing outside the gates of Guantanamo Bay. The door is shaking because tiny fists are pounding on it and screaming, "Get me outta here!!!" "Mommy! Where are you???" "Mommy, come back!!! I don't want to stay here!" I don't recognize any of the voices screaming for rescue...that's a good sign. Maybe Nate has found the trucks or the train table. The door continues to shake...I can see the shadows of several sets of feet under the door. And, I leave. I can't take hearing these children pleading for rescue. These teachers are saints. They prepared us for this, they said it would happen. It happens every year. Since the windows on the door are blacked out, I go outside and peek into their classroom from an outside window (along with two other dads). I feel like a creepy pedophile spying on little 2 year olds from a dirty window. Nate has his back to me, but he is sitting on his little carpet square while the class is singing "The more we get together, the happier we'll be" Let's hope so. I have no idea if he is crying because I can't see his face. But, his body isn't convulsing the way it does when he is having a complete meltdown.
I'm at McDonald's now with Charlotte having breakfast and letting her play int he play area. I will be heading back shortly to spring Nate from the joint. Let's hope that he had a good day and that Max hasn't scarred him for life. But, Max better get his little act together... I'm gonna be patient for a few weeks. I know Max is having a hard time. But after that....the dirty looks are gonna start flying....
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