He chewed his fingers the whole way there and never said a word.
He knew it was coming.
Yet another transition. Another change to his world.
So he stayed silent and chewed and waited.
And when we got there, he was confused.
"This is my old school...... Not church.......School."
"Yes, Owen. School. Remember how we've been talking about you going back to school?"
"No. Not church. School. Do you want to carry your toy dinosaur in with you?"
"No, Mommy. I don't want it."
Atta boy. Day one and no transition object.
And he walked in. And he stared at his feet while his teacher talked to him and tried to pull him out. And he gave me a kiss. And he walked over to the pretend bus and climbed right in and crouched in the corner.
And that's okay. They'll draw him out. They know what they're doing.
And there were no tears.
And that is a dang good first day transition in our books.
Way to go, brave boy.
You rock my socks.
The world could learn some things from you on being brave and stepping out of your comfort zone to do things you don't want to do.
I know I have.
I'll see you in one hour and forty-five minutes.
But who's counting?