Been chatting today about kids going back to school. I cried when our daughter went to kindergarten and again when she went to the first grade. I drove her to a private kindergarten but first grade was different. She went to a public school and caught the school bus across the street in the park on our corner. I remember her excitement. Kaitlin could hardly wait to ride that big yellow school bus! I walked her across the street to wait on the bus and when it came, she ran right up the steps without even looking back. ::sniff::
In the scan above, Kait had painted her lips with a red marker. She had insisted on wearing lip gloss that first day of first grade but after the fact, she didn't think it her lips were red enough so she "fixed" the photo. This is funny because today, at 21, she rarely wears makeup. The last time I saw her wear lipstick was for her senior prom.
Okay, so it was 15 years ago, and the memory is still fresh in my mind. Just as fresh was how I had to pull off the road and sit and bawl my eyes out for 20 minutes after I had dropped her off at kindergarten that first day. Come to think, I cried when she started college, too. Who knew I was such a sap?
Back to first grade... My lady friends came over to help me wait on the school bus that day 15 years ago this week. It was wicked hot and muggy and I was weepy all day. Someone decided we should have a little "tea" while we waited. Then someone decided we should put on vintage hats and velvet wraps and furs as we sat on the veranda with our teacups. Surely you must realize that we wouldn't have done this if we really had "tea" in our teacups. I can't remember what we were drinking but we all got schnockered sitting on the porch sipping whatever out of our teacups waiting on the bus. By the time the bus got here, a group of crazy drunk women ran out into the yard in our shorts and tea shirts with our silly hats and vintage wraps and started applauding and whooping when Kaitlin got off the bus. She wasn't allowed to cross the street by herself yet so we all trooped across and brought her home to sit on the porch with us and tell us all about her first day.
Kait always says that day is indelibly etched in her mind. I can't imagine why. But, I bet you have figured out why we gals always refer to the afternoon happy hour as our tea time.
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