“That boy is James*,” Irene said, somehow stretching the name out for four or five syllables. “He cried today.”
We were standing in the kindergarten playground after her first day of school.
“Oh no,” I said. “Poor James. But you didn’t cry, did you?”
“Yes. Yes, I did.” Irene was nodding.
“You did?! Why did you cry?”
“Because I missed you.”
“But you knew I was coming back.”
“Everybody cried?! The whole class?!”
“Yes,” she said. “The whole class.”
So Irene started junior kindergarten last week and her mood seems to be infectious. I’m so sorry. It’s a Catholic school with a blue and white dress code, too, which seems like a bigger change for the little girls than the boys. I mean, a navy t-shirt over navy cargo pants isn’t much of a departure from Colum’s street clothes. But Irene? My little style maven? How was she going to cope with the new school look?
This is the look she put together for herself over the weekend.
But you know what? She’s into the uniform. It’s almost like a costume or something. She gets to dress up like a big schoolgirl and ride the school bus with her brother and all the other big kids. “I sat beside a teenager on the bus.” I’m sure the novelty will wear off at some point. But I’m also sure she’ll find ways to make it her own.
In fact, she already has.
How cute is she?! Dying.
I was kissing her goodnight when she looked up at me from the bed. “I was just kidding, Mommy.”
“You were kidding? About what?”
“I didn’t cry at school.”
“You didn’t?! And what about the rest of your class? Did the whole class cry?”
“No, the whole class didn’t cry. Only James*.”
What do you guys think about uniforms for little kids? Do they stifle creativity or make life easier or both?
*Not his real name.