Kindergarten is like hot dogs. *shrug*
- Addison Sadler
- Aug 8, 2019
- 5 min read
My oldest child is transitioning into kindergarten, which is a huge milestone for him. In both 3 and 4-year-old preschool, he did very well academically. He learned how to read shortly after he turned four, and he can easily solve addition and subtraction problems. From what I have seen, he is gifted.
No matter how intelligent this kid is, though, he is still a five-year-old navigating the world for the first time. Like all of us, he is dealing with new social situations, and he doesn’t know how to confront these issues. Unlike most of us, however, he has no problem verbally laying out his problems. He doesn’t feel guilt in asking for help or admitting his faults.
Last week, Cassius realized that kindergarten is right around the corner. I may have used the “You can’t do that in kindergarten” threat a little too much over the past year, as his imagination of what happens in kindergarten has evolved into the stuff of nightmares. Even when we toured the school he will attend, which was a joyful, exciting experience, he noticed signs in the cafeteria which read, “No bathroom breaks during lunch time”, and he mentioned these multiple times with shakiness in his voice. “WHAT? No bathroom breaks? But what if I have to go?!”
Lately, several people have questioned him about going to kindergarten, and he has responded to them, “Well, I don’t think I’m ready for kindergarten, so I’m not going to go,” with a gentle shrug of his shoulders. Then, I have to interrupt the conversation, explain to him that he is ready to go, and he is going.
At night, though, when I’m alone with Cassius, I can talk to him about his feelings, and we work through them together.
Our conversations usually happen at bedtime, when we are lying on his too-small twin bed (which makes me relive my college dorm room). I lie down next to my son, rest my head on his fuzzy Cyclone pillow pet, and smell the sweetness of his just-brushed teeth.
I love that ten minute time frame before he goes to bed. Cassius is still in love with me. He plays with my hands, lacing his small fingers through mine. He boops my nose. He sings "More Than Words" with me and looks into my eyes. He tells me I’m his favorite person. He thanks me for reading him books and letting him eat freeze pops when he’s good. He lets me stroke his hair, kiss his butter-soft cheeks, and rest my head on his chest to hear his calm but quick-beating heart. I know soon, he won’t let this happen, but for now, I am clinging to this cliff with the grip of all ten fingers.
While we snuggled before he went to sleep one night last week, he started crying when I asked him why he was scared of kindergarten. “It’s just… so… scary, Mom!” He couldn’t put it into words, just emotions. I completely understood, though. Without him needing to explain anything, I put myself back into the role of a five-year-old, both excited and terrified to begin my school career.
What if the kids don’t like me? What if I get lost? What if I hate it, and I’m stuck there? What if I’m no good at school? What if I get into trouble? What if something bad happens?
We didn't talk about these worries out loud, but I could feel them in his beating heart, which sped up underneath my ear. “I know, Bud,” I said. “Kindergarten can be scary."
I reminded Cassius about hot dogs. (Hot dogs?) Yes, hot dogs.
From the time Cassius was old enough to gum solid foods, he has been extra picky about his food, especially when it comes to meat. For years, he refused to eat any kind of meat. When he was 18 months, we started trying to hide deli turkey in his tortilla wraps, but he caught us and lined up all the pieces of turkey in a clean section of his divided plate (one of our first signs of his intelligence).
After multiple failed attempts, at age four, Phil somehow convinced Cassius to try a hot dog in a bun. With a plugged nose, a few tears, and a chaser of cold milk, he did it!
Finally!
And he decided that he likes hot dogs! No, he LOVES hot dogs!
Since that day, pretty much every single day when I ask, “What do you want to eat for supper,” Cassius responds, “Hot dogs!”**
**Please don’t think I only feed my children hot dogs, though I will say that at less than $1 a package, Bar S makes several mealtimes per week doable for my family. ;)
“Cassius, what if you had never tried that hot dog when you were four? Can you imagine how lost you would be without hot dogs? All the deliciousness of ketchup and white bun and grill marks and… everything else you love about hot dogs?” (I actually hate Bar S hot dogs, so this was difficult for me, clearly.)
“Your life would be missing so much joy if you had never plugged your nose and tried that hot dog when you were four! You thought you hated them! You even cried and screamed and begged that we don’t make you eat them, and now you want to eat them every day!”
“Yeah,” Cassius responded, wrinkling his nose and making that crooked smile I love, “but what does this have to do with kindergarten?”
“Kindergarten is like hot dogs,” I began, realizing at once just how ridiculous this simile is, and appreciating the fact that Phil wasn’t there to hear me say this. “You are scared and nervous to try out kindergarten, but if you don’t go, think about all of the awesomeness you’ll miss! That first bite of hot dog was hard to eat, but now you eat two hot dogs at suppertime.”
I… think he understood what I was trying to teach him. And hopefully he doesn’t go around school telling other kids that his mom told him kindergarten is like hot dogs, but whatev-- I’ve had worse reputations.
Parenthood is so weird, though. I often find myself trying to teach my kids about the world, but I’m just faking it. Aren’t we all? I know that kindergarten is like hot dogs. So is moving, starting new careers, meeting new people, buying new houses, and any sort of change, but that doesn’t mean I’m not scared.
I’m terrified.
Putting yourself out there and trying something new makes you vulnerable, but according to Brené Brown,
The first of any new thing is often difficult. If it’s anything like Bar S hot dogs, it is rubbery, soft, and difficult to swallow. But after that first bite, it gets easier. For some (clearly, still not me), that first bite can turn into a favorite food!
This time of the year brings on lots of change for lots of people, and with change comes anxiety and fear. As you navigate through this season of your life, remember that change is growth, and no matter what happens, you will exit this new phase knowing more about the world and yourself.
Just don’t bite off more than you can chew—especially if we’re talking Bar S hot dogs.
Commentaires