The First Day of the Rest of Your (Scholastic) Life

Today was Egg's first day of school. Aged four and 3 months, he's one of the youngest in his class yet he strode purposefully into the classroom this morning and sat down confidently. Unfortunately (but oh so typically) we were late. Jay had taken the morning off to usher our firstborn into the tunnel of academia which now stretches for years into his future. Auntie Kenz was meant to babysit The Dumps but due to pouring rain she was late and we assumed she was a no-show so had no choice but to take Dumps with us. This of course was a disaster.

Most of the morning was spent with Jay outside in the corridor managing Dumpie while I sat uncomfortably in my low-rise black hipsters (bad idea) trying to feign interest in a bunch of wooden train tracks whilst uncomfortably aware that my knickers were on display. Making small 'mummy chit-chat' with a few of the other parents there, I looked around and noticed that Egg was the only one who wasn't decked out in the proper uniform. Oops. I had put him in a white polo shirt with some grey dress trousers, but the school store hadn't been open yesterday so his requisite logo top and jumper were missing.

Despite being the only tag-a-long sibling in attendance, Dumps made himself quite at home in the classroom and quite happily fit into the orientation morning. In fact if it weren't for his screaming 'Daaaadaaa' quite randomly and blabbing all through story time, one might have assumed that he was merely a vertically challenged reception student.

In the cafeteria, everyone was given a catered meal and Egg ran through the queue of dinner ladies like a pro, saying 'yes' to everything but eating very little of it. Oh well, I reckon it will be the worst money ever spent in paying for his school meals but it sure beats prepping lunch boxes for the next year - especially when Egg only favours cheese and pickle sandwiches. Dumpie wasn't too impressed with the meal itself but the strawberry jello with mandarin slices went down a treat and when he had demolished the remains from Egg's tray he popped down off his seat and went to explore the other tables, sipping his little milk box and looking entirely comfortable with his surroundings.

Tomorrow I am to bring Egg to the playground at 10am for a half-day on his own, and on Monday it's his first 9:10 - 3:25 full day of school...for the next 17 odd years of his life (unless of course he opts out of higher education and moves across the world to become a beach bum). I suspect if he realized the implications he would be recoiling in horror but as it stands he is more delighted with all the attention his newfound status of 'school boy' is affording him in terms of treats, presents and and special privileges.

Last night I gave Egg's hair a trim but left it basically shaggy and longish and today in the classroom a mother came up (in front of an incredulous Jay who would love to see Egg's hair shorn into typical short fashion) and complimented me on his hair and style. She said it was gorgeous and really suited him and was a big fan. I get compliments on Egg's hair all the time from other mothers but Jay for some reason wishes his son would 'conform' stylistically in terms of hairstyle.

You can imagine how amusing I find this when Jay for many years sported 'long' unkempt hair - bulking tradition by not even getting it cut for our wedding and insisting on keeping his Nepalese silver earring in for our nuptials. I suspect Egg will have a lot to say about such indiscrepancies when he's a little older, but for now the photo albums and evidence of his parents slightly checkered past is out of reach, and the issue of his hair to him is a simple matter. He likes to shake his head around and flick it about. It's part of his identity. He is the Egg-Man and the Egg-Man he shall remain until further notice.