Even enrolling him in March felt surreal. While filling these papers my first instinct, when asked "Mother's Name", and so on, was to enter my mom's info, not mine. How can an offspring of mine be the student, and not me?
We've walked (or scooted) to his future school a couple of times, always at his request. For sure he's too little now, but in a few years it will be completely doable for him to walk/bike/scoot, with only one big street to cross (relatively safely) and a pedestrian/biking path nearly all the way through the ten or so minutes.
The school is large and newish and seems great. The backyard is huge, with grass and trees. There are lots of little clay pots with sprouts and colorful tags on the windowsills. Fifth and sixth grade will be taught in English half of the year.
We received his backpack and lunch bag by mail yesterday. He put them on and paraded around the house, smiling from ear to ear, proud as a peacock.
He keeps talking about it, to anyone who will listen. School this, and school that. Everything he'll do, how it'll work, where he'll go after (the after-hours program), what he wants me to make him for lunch on his first day (a pita, hummus, crudités, an apple and some water).
We also received an envelope under his name, which contained the invitation for an orientation morning next week. In it was a badge he needs to draw and write his name on. In it was also a very cute drawing made by a little girl who's currently in kindergarden, just to make him feel welcome. M and I are going. We'll stay in the gymnasium to hear about how the school works, while he'll leave with his future teacher and new friends to play for a few hours.
He's so autonomous now. He gets dressed by himself, brushes his teeth by himself, makes his bed, pours his cereal and milk by himself, (usually) goes to the bathroom on his own at night, is able to help us in all kinds of practical ways.
He's ready (I think). I'm not.