Shepard started his last year of preschool today. He loves school and was ready to go. Last week we went to meet his teacher and he became totally outdone with me because I wouldn't leave. He said, "Just leave me, Mommy." I told him, "Shepard, I can't leave you. We are only here to meet your teacher." Shepard, "Go, Mommy!" Separation anxiety, what's that? Never really experienced that with Shepard. Not only was he born with a tremendous head, but also born with an adventurous spirit and fierce independent streak.
I will never forget when he was almost two years old. I was doing chores around the house one day when the door bell rang. I opened the front door to reveal my neighbor from across the cul-de-sac who was holding Shepard. I was shocked and embarrassed since I had not even realized that Shepard was not in the house.
The morning started with a tantrum. Shepard has very specific ideas about fashion and it goes like this: Whatever Mommy picks out is absolutely unacceptable. He will not wear khaki pants (actually he will wear khaki shorts but not long pants.) T-shirts are his shirt of choice and he refuses to wear any shirt that has buttons. If I say "Shepard, I have a shirt for you to put on." He replies suspiciously, "Does it have buttons?" I also like to use that as a threat. "Shepard, you better start behaving or I will make you wear a shirt with buttons." And then he wails, "Noooooooo, not buttons!"
So back to the tantrum...I made a deal with him that I would choose the first day of school outfit but after that he could pick his outfits. Well, he was not pleased with my choice. He said that everyone would laugh at him.
What is it with kids today? I once wore a shirt to MIDDLE school that had Popeye the Sailor Man on it just because I didn't want to hurt my mom's feelings. It's true, I had to wear my winter coat all day to save myself the embarrassment. And in one careless moment the coat slipped open and this bratty fat kid with braces saw it. And yes, he laughed at me, AND pointed, no less. But I sacrificed a little (ok, a lot) of pride just for my mom. But will my boys do that for me?! Of course not. His shirt was not that bad. At least it wasn't Popeye.
I made him wear the shirt anyway because WE HAD A DEAL! He cried for about 20 minutes--through getting dressed, teeth and hair brushing. He cried all the way down to the breakfast table and he almost broke me. I was about to give in when he suddenly stopped crying and said in a mopey voice, "Ok, I'll wear it." Then he was all smiles for the rest of the morning. And there was peace on Earth.