By Marsha Jordan
My grandson started kindergarten this week. Itís always tough when a distant dream becomes a frightening reality. The adjustment has been difficult. The first day was long and filled with anxiety. There was great apprehension, much fear and worrying, and a whole lot of sobbing . . . but I survived. The second day was a little easier for me; but my son, who is a stay-at-home dad, was a nervous wreck.
We hate to see our little sweetie grow up and go out into the big, bad world ALL ALONE. Why do kids begin school at such a tender age, anyway? Five is so young. They should wait until at least twelve. I see these little cherubs walking to school and I wonder, "How can their mothers let them outside alone?"
I'm a little overprotective, I guess. I don't understand why grandma can't ride the bus with him and sit next to him in school, for the first month at least. No one can protect my sweet potato like his she-bear grammie. Who will kiss his boo-boos if he falls down? Who will yell at the naughty kids who teach him bad words? Who will threaten the bullies who pick on him? Who will see that the teacher gives him the extra special attention that he deserves?
That first day, my imagination was enough to fuel my worries, but then I learned that Cobi had been beat up during recess! This is one of the worst things a grandmother can hear. (I had hoped that my biggest shock the first week of school would be hearing that he'd called the teacher a doo-doo head or a stinky face.) I should have had the foresight to pay off the playground monitor so she'd watch out for him.
It seems that my brave little man tried to rescue a first grade girl who was being harassed by an older boy. When Cobi defended her, the bigger boy knocked him down and gave him a bloody nose. Of course, grandma wanted to go to school and give that bully what for, visit his parents, and call the principal; but my grandson assured me that it wasnít a big deal. In fact, he seemed unbothered by the entire incident.
When I asked what happened after the boy punched him, Cobi casually explained that he hadnít hit back because he "didn't want to hurt the big kid." Grandma couldnít help but smile at that.
If youíre a parent or grandparent, you probably feel as I do . . . itís harder to deal with adversities affecting our kids than it is facing things that hurt us personally. Donít you wish we could just wrap them in bubble wrap to protect them when theyíre away from us?
Cobi is speeding toward adulthood faster than a computer virus spreads across the web. He recently took the training wheels off his bike. Heís growing up! Before I know it, heíll be driving the car, having children of his own, and visiting me in the old fogiesí home. (At least I hope heíll visit.)
I hope that time won't come too soon. There are too many fun things we need to do together before that happens. I plan to savor every one of them. The Bible verse is true that says, "Children are gifts from God. They are his reward." (Psalm 127:3)
We may not know whatís happening to our kids when theyíre out of our sight; but we are never out of the sight of our heavenly Father. He always knows whatís happening to us. He enfolds us in His love, which is even better than bubble wrap.
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