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Another School Year Draws to an End

Can you believe another school year is about to come to an end? I know I can hardly believe the little kidlettes are finishing up serving their 10 months’ hard time in the joints. Saying goodbye to teachers, textbooks and homework within a few short weeks! For me, June marks the last month that I will be the mother to an elementary school student. Come September the boy hits grade 9, off to secondary school and leaving those primary years behind. And I become the mom of an official teenager in high school. I am not sure how he is getting older… yet I seem to be remaining the same age?!  
 That very first day of junior kindergarten doesn’t feel like it was all that long ago. He was so cute, dressed in his little cargo shorts, nice button up, wee Nikes on his feet, and tying the whole look together with a Lightning McQueen backpack and watch; he was taking fashion to a whole new level. Although dressed to the nines and feelin’ fine before we got to the school, the day took a quick nose dive once we opened those double steel doors and stepped through into the eminent doom behind them. 
Bert (names in this story have been changed to protect the innocent, at his request) was only 3 years old that very first day. Only out of diapers for a brief period of time and only stopped napping a couple months prior, Gu… I mean Bert, was only somewhat prepared for a full day away from home and mom. He had been enrolled in daycare for about a year before to try and prepare him. I thought that would be enough, I was wrong. I had far underestimated the time he would need to prepare. 
As I attempted to drop him off with his class that warm September morning, Gus Bert, decided he was leaving with me. He was crying, begging me not to leave him. Okay, what’s the big deal? I will just take him back home with me. Clearly 3 years old is too young to start school… and really how important is JK?
Apparently, that was not the appropriate response. The teacher quickly intervened, prying the hysterical little being from me and quickly whisking him away. The door was firmly closed between us, so that only his pint-sized face, full of horror, was visible through that wire veined window in the door. The water works were not only flowing from my boy, but tears were freely flowing from my eye holes too. I sullenly made my way back to the Jeep to go back home and await 3pm when we could be reunited once again.
Those torturous mornings lasted a few weeks. Then a wonderful teacher, Mrs. Barnes, along with the Fabulous (yes, that deserves a capital F) EA, Ms. Smit, took over the class. From that day forward, G.. Bert, did not give a flying fig whether I was there or not. It was all about Mrs. Barnes and Ms. Smit from then on in.  
He was a handful and a ham. Ms. Smit would often take me aside after school to tell me about his daily antics. One particular story, which I plan on telling at his wedding, started with Bert having to take a poop. 
Gus, I mean Bert, had to go see a man about a horse while at school. The JKs have their own bathroom, so he excused himself to use the facilities and went about handling his business. When he had completed the task, he kindly asked Ms. Smit to "wipe his butt". She explained to him that he was a big boy and at school he would have to wipe his own butt. Bert, insisted that she comply with his wishes and get wiping. This of course, led to the same response. He then informed Ms. Smit that he would not be returning to school as "you people can't even help a kid wipe his butt". The struggle! 
He did recover from having to wipe his own butt at school and frankly, he's probably a pro at it now. Ms. Smit taught him a valuable lesson that day…. No matter what the task is, you can do it! Wiping your own butt isn’t nearly the daunting task it seems to be when you are just 3 – and even a 3 year old can do it when they have the right motivation.
And now that I am the proud mother of a boy who can indeed tackle his own hygiene, I can reflect on the days when he was just a wee little man and relied on the women in his life to help him with even, what may now seem, the simplest of tasks. He is nearly self-sufficient, but not totally. That small “not totally” part is what being a mom is all about. You never totally give up that role of being needed in some way, big or small.
Gus (now that that whole poop thing belongs to Bert and not Gus, I can freely say his name) will be starting a new chapter in his life come September. He seems to be handling it quite well. I, on the other hand, ugh, high school!! However, I am fairly certain between his upbringing at home and his teachers at Egremont, he is a reasonably polite and well-behaved kid, so I hope I don’t have too much to worry about. But – if I am wrong, and you see Gus up to some shenanigans, do this mom a solid and hook a sister up with the lowdown.

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