At least according to The Young One, who grumped through the morning like a Disney dwarf with bursitis. I’m sure the fact that 47 of his closest friends chose to call him at 10:00 p.m. last night to talk about the impending first day of high school while I yelled, “GET TO BED ALREADY!!” in the background didn’t help. Nor did the fact that we were both up at the crack of absurd this morning.
When I was in school, we had to be there at 8:00 a.m every morning, and we left each and every day at 3:00 p.m. (well, until my senior year when the really bright kids, like myself, managed to weasel in a study hall for first and last periods, meaning we could show up an hour late and leave an hour early). We had 6 periods a day, and lunch. This was true even when Darling Daughter was in high school (although they had block scheduling and managed to fit in 8 periods by having them attend 4 a day on alternating days).
Not so now – school starts here at 7:20 a.m., which means the bus comes at 6:45 which means he has to be at the bus stop no later than 6:35. He has like 11 periods (don’t ask me how they manage this; I have NO idea) and they get out of school at 2:38 p.m.
2:38 p.m. What, if they stay an extra two minutes all of the teachers will implode?
At any rate, he got off this morning without any tears or drama on either of our parts. I don’t have any desire to wax poetic about how my baby is a mere four years away from college, or how he grew into a handsome and reasonably responsible young man seemingly overnight. There will be no sappy prose about him starting a new phase of his life or his impending journey into young adulthood.
Mostly due to this conversation this morning.
“Young One, stop abusing your lunch!” I scolded, as he swung the paper bag around. He immediately raised it in front of his face and began poking and slapping it around.
“Take that, rotten lunch! Good for nothing! Bad lunch – BAAAAAAD lunch!”
It’s going to be a looooong year.