This morning JD and I attended what’s called “Kindergarten Tea” at the public school he will attend in the Fall. I’ve decided not to “redshirt” him (hold him back due to his age). JD turns 5 on August 30 and the first day of Kindergarten is September 6—BAM! He will certainly be one of the youngest, but I know he will be fine. When JD was two he entered a competitive enrichment daycare and is currently in Pre-K 4 at this school. Cognitively and socially he is beyond on track—and this isn’t just me raving about my kiddo. All of the incoming Kindergarteners were tested at the school last week. JD counted, sang his ABC’s, stood on one foot, identified his colors and everything else he was asked to do. He passed the hearing and eye tests. The only thing he didn’t fully prevail at was…skipping. Skipping.
My child was able to identify the word “House,” read a small sentence, spell his name, count to the point where the person testing him had to cut him off, catch a ball—but “he needs a little work on skipping” was what the tester told me. I almost laughed in her face. This is horrible. I know how this reads. I really, truly do. I apologize if I’m insulting anyone. The thing is, in my adult life I just can’t count “skipping” as a life tool. I totally get it’s all about development and ability, but JD can knock a t-ball out of the field and wins every running race. He dresses himself. He drinks from a cup and walks up and down stairs properly. He can stand on one foot and does yoga with me (yoga!). He battles me at dance contests and always has the last move. He hops like a frog and walks like a penguin. He creates teeny-tiny extravagant Lego projects, colors in the lines, sings; remembers things from months ago. He’s kind: He worries my Mom’s fish, Katelyn (who he named) is lonely in the bowl alone.
I admittedly have not practiced skipping with him—rebelling! I am somewhat anti-skipping at this point. Who skips? Do you skip? Does this make me a horrible, crazy mother? I mean, we play ball every night, do worksheets, eat fruit; I’m the first one on the T-ball field every Saturday. I’m not that concerned my son doesn’t skip as well as he should. Is there a bar for skipping? On a scale of 1 to 10 how bad does my kid suck at skipping?
In fact, there was no skipping at the tea today. There was a school tour, a school bus ride (I felt pukey), circle time and coloring. Ah, [insert sarcasm] I see myself telling JD to skip away as I leave him at his college dorm in 14 years. Something tells me he won’t—for several reasons.
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