My Big Plan for My Daughter's First Day of School Is Probably IllegalSerge Bielanko
The first day of Kindergarten for my daughter, Violet, is a few weeks away. It was really tearing me up for a while, but I think I finally have a vision for how I can make it special for her without having my own heart shattered by the fact that my little girl is growing up for real.
You wanna hear my plan?
Alright, since my wife and I are separated and living in different houses a few miles away, I’ll drive V to her mom’s house that Monday morning and we’ll all travel the short distance from there to the elementary school. We’ll be talking all excitedly about what a big day this is and how much fun she’s going to have and remember to listen to the teacher, Mrs. Donutville or whoever, when she talks.
But that stuff will just be white noise to me because behind my face I am going to be scheming up ways that I can watch Violet through a window or something.
Is that weird? I don’t think it is, but I suppose you have to wonder a little.
We’ll squeeze our baby tight and help her get her backpack on right and tell her how proud we are of her and we’ll take pictures just like a lot of the other parents, I guess. Then she’ll disappear into the front doors and I will cry like a baby while Violet’s mom will laugh at me and make fun of me lightheartedly as she drops me back at my car in her driveway and then heads off to her job.
That’s when I’ll aim my Suzuki right back at that school. I will beeline it over there like a mental case, my snot bubbling out my nose from the intense bawling I’ll be doing. I might sideswipe a car because I can’t even see the road, but who cares? I’m not stopping. There is no time for trading insurance information right now!
I think I’m probably not supposed to go sneaking around the school grounds but I also think I’m probably not supposed to do a lot of things in this world that I still do. I’m a tiny outlaw; I bend the rules here and there and nobody gets hurt. The way I see it, when there’s no one around and all the school buses have headed back to the bus place and all the parent’s cars are on their way to work, I will be ducking down below the big windows of Violet’s classroom.
Yes. To answer your question: I already know which room it is. And I know I have to crawl like a dog down along a thin bed of wood chips (cedar!) and late summer petunias for about forty yards from the parking lot, underneath several other classroom windows, until I get to the one where she’ll be. I’ll get there, though. There are no security cameras that I could see when I did my test run the other day. Plus, I’ll be wearing this brown parka I bought at a thrift store just so I can blend in. I honestly look like a big pile of wood chips the janitor forgot to spread around.
Peeking in to the room could be a problem I suppose because kids are always looking out windows when they’re not supposed to. And with like fifty eyeballs swinging around all over the place in there, I’m going to have to be super cautious. That’s cool though, because given the fact that I’m going to take my good old time raising my head up to where my eyes are just barely peeping up over the windowsill like a slow morning sun rising up over the mountains, I don’t expect to be spotted.
I’ll just take my time and then when I can finally see in there I’ll use my Navy Seal skills (no, I wasn’t a Seal, but I know I should have been, because, I mean, look at this plan I’m executing, right? RIGHT?!). Taking in the whole room, I’ll zero-in on faces and scan swiftly until I spot my sweetheart’s. Bee-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-BEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP!!!!! THERE SHE IS!!!!
Oh, the humanity. Sitting there looking all around her at this whole new world/talking to some little boy sitting in the chair next to her at the big round table. Her chair is orange. The boy’s chair is green. There’s so much color in the room, and so many cool posters and things hanging off the ceiling and the walls! Look how perfect it is.
OOOF! Some kid just looked my way! I ducked though. Close one. Pay attention to Mrs. Donutville, you little runt.
Oh man, I’m all blubbering again.
Oh my Angel Kiss.
Oh my Coconut Bon-Bon.
I love you so much. I need to get in there and give you one more big old squeeze! There’s nothing wrong with that, right? This teacher will understand, heck, she’ll probably even be really blown away by this dad knocking on the outside window and flapping his hands for her to come over. Oh, she’ll be alarmed at first, obviously. But look, if I can get her to come over to me before she decides to call for help or whatever, I’ll just explain myself.
“Hey Mrs Donutville! I’m Violet Bielanko’s daddy and I just need to give her one more giant bear hug! Umm, do you think I could slide in through the window maybe?”
She’ll be charmed. I know how to charm people, trust me.
That whole school, they’re going to be talking about me for years, probably. They’re going to remember for a long time to come, Violet’s dad … what a guy … he just couldn’t let her go … he just had to give her one last squeeze that morning! I’ll probably make the yearbook even.
I’m feeling better now, just telling all this to you guys. Thanks for listening. I knew there had to be a way that the first day of kindergarten wouldn’t mess me up so bad.
I just knew it.
*Oooh, that reminds me, I have to make sure that the stupid little recording thingy on my cellphone is working so I can record that first bell sound! What? You didn’t record the sound of the first bell on your kid’s first ever day of school? That sucks for you then.
Image: Bielanko Private
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More from Serge:
The Tale of My Separation Baby