School!

On the drive home from pre-k yesterday RB told me about all the wonderful things she did,

“There’s jewelry! And I wore it ALL.”

Then she stopped and whined,

“M in my class gets to go to school every day.”

“You get to go to school every day too.”

“I do?!!”

YES YOU DO!

Two weeks ago as we dug our toes into the sand for a few final beach days, RB stood next to me and said,

“I’m ready to go home.”

“Ready to go home? We just got to the beach!”

“I have schoolwork to do.”

“You do?”

“I have soccer, ballet, swimming and schoolwork!”

I don’t know what summer schoolwork she thought she had for pre-k, but she’s taking her schedule very seriously.

And these pre-k teachers mean business. RB offered,

“During circle time D asked me if my shoes were velcro, but I refused to answer him because the teachers were talking and we’re supposed to listen.”

If anyone likes a good set of rules, it’s RB. She may or may not abide by them, but she loves to hold everyone else accountable.

She’s fast approaching five years old and any visible signs of babyhood are long gone, like her delicious, oh so munchable, squeezable, to-die-for, thigh rolls. When she was a baby/toddler I’d love her up, squish her legs and say,

“Oh I love these chubby bubbies!”

It became our thing. So much so that by the time she was four, and her chubby bubbies weren’t so chubby anymore, I’d give her kisses on her cheek, a big hug and then start to walk away. She exclaimed,

“Hey!” And lifted up a leg. I had NO IDEA what she was doing. I just stared. She continued,

“Do you want a chubby bubbie?”

“I DO WANT a chubby bubbie!” At which point I squished and munched it right up. Children are delicious. (Especially when I’m home alone writing about them in peace.)

Then I started to walk away. RB shouted,

“Do you want the other one?”

“YES I DO!”

So our thing became a hug, kiss and several thigh squeezes.

Most nights I snuggle RB to sleep. I only have patience for this because I stroke her arm five times and she’s asleep. This week she stroked my upper arm back. Then she squished it. Then she murmured,

“You have chubby bubbies too!”

So I do.

The weekend before school started we squeezed in one last sailing day. There’s a radio on the boat which is used to call marinas, other boats or the yacht club. People use specific radio language. Like: over, out, roger, etc.

Roger means: I received and understood your message. My kids have been listening to this without comment for years.

After a final beautiful sail for the season, we returned to our mooring. RB was bouncing off of the rails and knew we needed to radio to get off the boat. Annoyed she yelled,

“Can someone call Roger?!”

And we did.

Now my babies are off! Third grade and pre-k. As I walked RB up to drop-off this morning, she looked annoyed she couldn’t shake me. She stopped and said,

“When you drop me off for high school you DO NOT need to walk me in.”

ROGER.