“Momma. Seriously. Flip-flops. Johnson said Quail Friday Flip-flops. Pleaaaasssseeee.”
“Momma, why are you crying? That was a nice letter.”
Wiping the tears off that are quickly running down my cheeks, I tuck away the letter that the Quail’s kindergarten teacher sent home to each of her children. A time capsule memento to be savored by us parents today and our babies when they aren’t so very little one day in the future. The girls look at me like maybe they should be worried. And then the moment passes. Sugarplum falls off her chair with an almost comedic, “Wooaahhh…weehaw!” as she scrambles up and out of the room before she can be scolded for not sitting still. The Quail shoves her pink sparkle flip-flops up to my nose for emphasis and Zuzu puzzles over why I would cry over what sounded to her like a pretty typical summary of what kindergarten is.
And it was. A summary of what a typical kindergarten experience is. What it was for our girl this past year. What it had been for Zuzu two years earlier and what it would most likely be for Sugarplum two years from now. Our girl, who a few years ago though, didn’t have a certain assurance of a spot in her community school. When our EI would sit crosslegged next to me on our living room rug at the end of each annual IFSP planning meeting and ask what our goals were for the Quail, I would include how I wanted her to go to the same school her sisters would attend. How I wanted her to be in a regular class until she showed us it was too much for her. She would nod and write it down. And then tell me what would happen “typically” for someone like our daughter. And that was ok. We needed to be prepared. If the Quail needed a higher level of self-contained support to receive an education than I wasn’t going to keep that from her. On the other hand, if she could be a part of the same classes that all the little children she has grown up with attended, well that was the goal.
“It is a very nice letter Zuzu. I like it very much. I’m not crying because I’m sad. I’m crying happy tears, because we all worked really hard for the Quail to get to do those things because we thought she could do them and she would love them. Does the Quail like school do you think?”
“Um, yeah. Every night and every morning she asks if it’s a school day and if it is she cheers, Yay!!!!!”
“That’s right. She loves school and she gets to go. Do you remember my sister Aunt Shel? When she was growing up, children like her didn’t live in their homes or go to the same school as their brothers and sisters.”
Now if you’ll excuse me I need to go read, “The night before Summer Vacation” to the girls. It was a present from the Quail’s Kindergarten teacher and she’s itching to hear the story and show me which popcorn words are in it.