The first step, of course, was the annual school supply odyssey. Mid-July of every year the big box retailers close out the flip-flops and inflatables and concentrate all the school supplies for one stop shopping. At least that's the theory. There's always one specific item you can never find. Sometimes they forget to put the kleenex over there, or if they did put it there, they have a bundle of three 150 count, but you're supposed to get two 225s. Or they only have the .5 oz glue stick, but you're supposed to get the 1 oz. A sane and rational person would conclude that you could get two 100s of something instead of a 200, but that person has obviously never spied the look of anxiety in their child's eyes as thoughts of being the only kid in class who brought undersized gluesticks race through their minds projecting the year-long horror of seeing their name Sharpied on the tubes lying unused at the bottom of the community supply cache to be opened only in case of an emergency.
The other part of Supply Day is the ritual selection of the backpack and lunchpail. I myself looked forward to selecting a new lunchpail (never lunchbox by the way) every August almost more than I anticipated my birthday. I lunched in the Aladdin era, just after the introduction of plastic Thermoses to replace the glass-innard ones, but before those stupid soft puffy plastic ones they have now. The ones I remember were GI Joe, Six Million Dollar Man, Charlie's Angels (rowwwrrr), Land of the Giants, and in 1977 I got one that had all the NFL helmets on it - AFC on one side, NFC on the other. It was the bane of my year, though, because the Seattle Seahawks and Tampa Bay Buccaneers had switched leagues that season and my lunchpail did not reflect that. It drove me crazy. I must post about the reason I only ever took my lunch to school and avoided the cafeteria. Anyway, I was sure the Killer would take forever, but she gravitated immediately to her new backpack. There was no other backpack for her. This was it. She was sure. She was even willing to shun Hello Kitty, Bratz and Barbie lunchpail and get a generic one so that it would match her backpack. Here it is:
That is so SGK.
So, Super Giant Killer started last week on half days. Her sister had the same teacher SGK is getting this year. The Self was miserable with Ms. Legend as a teacher and said she was mean and grabbed kids by the neck or yelled at them for no reason. I'm not positive, but I think I remember Tex's eldest had the same experience. So, I didn't want to poison the well, but I tried to prepare SGK a little bit:
"Now, your new teacher is very serious, but if you behave and do your work, there won't be any problems."
She shrugged her shoulders and said, "I heard she was mean, but I can handle you, Dad, so I know I can handle her! In fact, you and Ms. Legend make a much better couple. So, if Mom can find a cute guy, you can be with Ms. Legend." She basically called me mean and ugly in the same sentence.
So on the first day, I told her if she jumped up and got dressed I would take her to Dunkin Donuts for breakfast. Actually, what happened was a week or so before her first day, YHWH and I worked out the transportation issues and since YHWH was not back to work yet, she was going to take SGK to school. Then at bedtime the night before, YHWH says, in front the Killer:
"Don't you wish you could take her to school on her first day?"
I felt the rush of rush of emotion flow through me like syrup and cola at a soda fountain - Bad Dad Cola and Backstabbing Wife Strangle Syrup.
"Well, maybe if I you had told me earlier I could've made arrangements at work to be late..."
"You've known when her first day is for months..."
I really wanted to blaspheme the Holy Ghost and invoke half of the seven words, but instead I was inspired (maybe by the Holy Ghost) to reply, "Well, since you probably won't be ready to leave on time, I thought I would take her to Dunkin Donuts before school to celebrate! How 'bout that Killer? Huh? A little Double-D to kick off the year?!"
She selected a Marble Frosted and we got YHWH a giant iced mocha (see, I'm forgiving). On the way back the Killer said, "I think they made a typo on the menu. It should be maple frosted."
She seems to be loving school so far but she misses her best friend from last year (Gouldie's niece) who didn't end up in her class.
Soon, I will relay the first day of High School. You won't want to miss it. I wish I had.
4 comments:
My lunchpail was decorated with characters from The Jungle Book. I made the mistake of packing a banana one day. For the rest of the year, that metal box smelled like an old banana. It was so gross.
Oh yeah, I dropped my thermos -- the one with glass in it. Yep, it shattered. Stupid thermos.
I do concur on the Legend's temper. Back in my day, they were allowed to dispense swats & I remember her almost relishing the day she provided them to a fellow student.
I can hardly wait to hear about high school.
I missed the whole picking out of the lunch pail ritual--my mom always made me buy a lunch ticket to eat in the cafeteria. But then again, I'm old. It really wasn't too cool to take your lunch in those days.
It's me, coming with a hint of overanalysis, a blot of teenage insecurity, and a shebang of Pamadeleinean again... but I swear I'll refrain from the weeping and the gnashing of teeth.
When you say you "wish you did", it appears as though you're saying you wish you'd missed out on my retelling of my first day of high school, in which case you just should've told me to slow down.
It also could appear, were I to deny the Pamadeleinean overanalysis, that you were saying you wished that you had retold it...
I wonder which it is?
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