The Daughter “graduated” from kindergarten to first grade in June. Was there any doubt? Actually, if she had missed more than 28 days, there was this threat, and she did miss nine days in one marking period in the fall, for a total of 15 overall.
It was a refreshingly short event, 26 minutes, starting with the kids marching out on stage, yes, to a recording of Pomp and Circumstance, and sitting in chairs. We watched a video of their year, the kids sang two songs, then each child’s name was called, and the kid stood in place. Finally, they got to meet the first-grade teachers. Afterward, there were opportunities for pictures with their teachers in the other gym, with some punch and amazingly good cookies from a local bakery that was peanut-free, important for Lydia. Oh, the caps and gowns are drycleaned then reused.
At the ceremony, some of the younger parents were crying for joy. Really? It’s KINDERGARTEN.
Maybe it’s because she now has had as many graduation events (three, including two from daycare!) as I did (high school, college, grad school) that I was disinclined to get all teary-eyed about it.
She has the summer off, as does The Wife. Mondays, they tend to do chores together, scheduling medical appointments and the like. Tuesdays and Thursdays, Lydia goes to a program at her old daycare. Wednesdays, she takes ballet. And Friday, mother and daughter do something fun together.
The exception to this was Friday, July 16, when I took off from work so that Carol could do whatever she wants on the day after her birthday. Lydia and I went to the state museum, played in the Discovery area, rode the carousel twice, and had what has turned out to be “our” sandwich, a Subway footlong meatball sub on wheat bread; she only likes cheese on her half, but I get spinach, onion, and tomato on my part.
We’re still trying to get Lydia to do some reading and writing exercises; don’t want her to forget EVERYTHING she learned in kindergarten.