Skip to main content

Joshie

 When I was growing up, a class birthday involved Hostess cupcakes. Often, the cupcakes would come in a shoebox, so you could taste a leathery residue (during the party).


Times change. You can't bring a treat into a public school, in 2024, because heaven knows what kind of allergies might lurk, in unseen corners, in the classroom. But Joshua's teacher will allow: a dance party, a pajama day, or a guest reader.

I chose to bring a story for Joshua's birthday (observed), but I didn't think through the role that anxiety might play in this interaction. We talk, in this house, quite a bit about anxiety; one game-changer, for J, has been a daily list of activities, so that he knows exactly what to expect. He gets a look of profound satisfaction when he sees the agenda; it doesn't really matter what the specific events happen to be. It's just about knowing, "I can anticipate X, Y, and Z."

Joshua struggled with his celebration. He wore his nervousness on his face. He had to sit in a special spot, and wear a crown, and the bright lights of attention seemed to unsettle him. I gave him several kisses, and just zoomed ahead with the story, which was "Harry, the Dirty Dog." In years past, a parental visit mid-day could ruin the entire afternoon. On one occasion, Marc had to drive back to the school to get Joshua early, because a ten-minute student/parent social event had left Joshua unmoored.

I write all this just to say that Joshua *did* hold it together on Friday. The teariness stopped. I was able to leave the building. Joshua made it through the rest of the day, then he insisted on wearing his birthday crown all the way through Sunday evening.

I never would have thought that this small event would be a source of triumph--but I'm absurdly proud of the family for having conquered the Kindergarten birthday. Life surprises me, even now, at least once or twice a week.
Labels:

Comments

  1. KathySeptember 23, 2024 at 5:14 AM

    One of the most amazing truths about children is how much they grow... year after year! This isn't a small triumph, but a truly momentous one, if you ask me - to be able to withstand that "all eyes on me" moment when that doesn't come naturally, to be able to stay at school for the duration of the day... and to clearly love at least parts of the experience (the crown!!!) is fantastic! Congratulations (and in Holland the family is congratulated when a child has a birthday because it's known that raising a child is HARD WORK!)

    ReplyDelete
  2. AnonymousSeptember 23, 2024 at 6:42 AM

    Thank you! I agree that it's not easy to be the focus of attention. I think I forgot this before entering Joshie's room. It's easy to think, "Oh, this is cute and it's low stakes" -- but if you are five years old, the situation looks different. I was amused/surprised by the way the crown stuck around through the weekend :)

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

How to Host a Baby

-You have assumed responsibility for a mewling, puking ball of life, a yellow-lab pup. He will spit his half-digested kibble all over your shoes, all over your hard-cover edition of Jennifer Haigh's novel  Faith . He will eat your tables, your chairs, your "I {Heart] Montessori" magnet, placed too low on the fridge. When you try to watch Bette Davis in  Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte , on your TV, your dog will bark through the murder-prologue, for no apparent reason. He will whimper through Lena Dunham's  Girls , such that you have to rewind several times to catch every nuance of Andrew Rannells's ad-libbing--and, still, you'll have a nagging suspicion you've missed something. Your dog will poop on the kitchen floor, in the hallway, between the tiny bars of his crate. He'll announce his wakefulness at 5 AM, 2 AM, or while you and another human are mid-coitus. All this, and you get outside, and it's: "Don't let him pee on my tulips!" When...
3 comments
Read more

Josh at Five

 Joshie's project is "flexibility"; the goal is to see that a plan is just an idea, not a gospel, not a guarantee. This is difficult. Yesterday, we went to a restaurant--billed as "open," with unlocked doors--and the owner informed us of an "error in advertising." But Joshie couldn't accept the word "closed." He threw himself on the floor, then climbed on the furniture. I felt for the owner, until he nervously made a reference to "the glass windows." He imagined that my child might toss himself through a sealed window, like Mary Katherine Gallagher, or like Bruce Willis, in "Die Hard." Then--thank the Lord!--I was able to laugh. The thing that really has therapeutic value for Joshie is: a firetruck. If we are out in public, and he spots a parked truck, he wants to climb on each surface. He breathlessly alludes to the wheels, the door, the windows. If an actual fire station ("fire ocean," in Joshie's parla...
Post a Comment
Read more