He walked to the glass doors without hesitation, bounding in with gusto. It was the first day of school. Two and a half and already hitting the books. Well, maybe not the books, more like the finger paints and glue.
Liam started school on June 2, 2009 and he hasn't looked back. It was a hectic week with everything going on around him. His baby brother wailing through the night (and day). His dad working crazy hours. His mom sometimes crying just because. He's playing well with other kids and learning so much, even if he has a shaggy haircut and his name isn't Jackson.
OK, OK ... so he goes to a preppy preschool on the other side of town where almost every male child has a faux hawk and kids sport names like Jackson, Riley and Madison. I only picked this place because there were spots available and they didn't care if he crapped his shorts. And, my niece goes there and has reported of delicious snack foods.
The first day was hilarious. We stroll up and I'm noticing that all the kids hopping out of SUVs have backpacks and lunch sacks. Even the 2-year-olds. My kid is carrying one of my old canvas tote bags I got from a copy editing workshop. OH, no! I was already turning out to be that mom. You know, the one that convinces her kid that nonconformity is cool as they dream of Disney paraphernalia. (I later rectified the situation my getting him a nondescript backpack and a Transformers lunch sack.)
Giddy with the prospect of getting to play with kids that weren't his relatives overtook him as we glided down the hall to his classroom. Some kids cry. I knew my kid wouldn't, he's that independent. But what happened next cracked us up. Liam walked in, scanning the scene. There were a couple of little girls playing together on the floor and that's it. He walks toward them, then suddenly turns back around and heads toward the door shouting, "Help, help, help!" His teacher has said he's extremely polite with the girls in his class. And apparently, he's learning to share with the boys. There are only 3 or 4 other boys and I get the feeling that Liam is leader of the pack from what his teacher says.
He's grown so much in the last two months. All of sudden there's this little person, talking with his hands, furrowing his brow as he discusses vacuum cleaners in Target. It's amazing.
Before August was born, Liam was in full-blown Terrible Twos. Throwing himself on the ground if he as so much as heard the word "no," not staying in the timeout chair, lobbing cans of instant breakfast from the shopping cart. He's not completely out the woods but he's getting there. I'm able to be alone with him and the baby now. That wasn't always the case.
Jealous of the new baby? Maybe for half a second. He's the consummate big brother. Alerting us when August cries or trying to give him his pacifier. However, if August's wailing gets too much, he holds up his hand in protest and simply says, "too loud." Our only scary moment was when August was about 2 weeks old. After using the restroom I found the baby on the ground and Liam looking awfully guilty. I should have known he would "try" to pick him up on his own.