You know. I had an entire series of posts planned. I had them researched, the first one mostly written. I'm excited to post them; I've spent much longer working on them than I thought I would.
However, this isn't one of those planned and carefully researched posts. This, is another in a long line of "He's a good boy, really, I swear" posts.
As most, if not all of you, know by now, we moved to Colorado at the beginning of November. Moves are always hard on kids, especially children who don't do well with change to begin with like Kyle. I fully anticipated some behavioral issues. I was not, however, expecting my beloved son to become a total stranger.
I was at home this afternoon, sitting on my couch, reading a book while the King slept on my lap. There were just shy of two hours left in the school day for Kyle and Taryn, and I was enjoying my few minutes of peace.
Then my phone rang.
It was the school. Again. This seems to happen on average once a week these days. In Florida, it was the nurse calling to let me know Kyle had had a nosebleed or wouldn't eat his lunch. Here in Colorado, it is, almost always, the principal's office.
Up until two months ago, it was a coin toss as to which of my children would be in the office waiting for me. However, Taryn's behavior was easily corrected with a reward system and a long talk. So now, it's always Kyle.
Last week, Kyle caused quite the stir at school when he ran out of his classroom into another second grade room. It took all three second grade teachers to corral him at that time for his principal to come get him, take him to the office, attempt to calm him down, and call me to come get him.
Today, Kyle ran out of gym class. When his principal was called to get him, he had to carry Kyle to his office, because Kyle refused to get up. When I got there, Kyle was in shut down mode.
My son is a bright, bubbly, talkative kid. You can't always understand him and he doesn't always make sense, but he'll talk your ear off given half the chance. To see him so still and so quiet is disconcerting to say the least.
And then the principal started talking, and although he was polite and trying to be fair and kind (to his credit), I could see it in his face. My son is the difficult kid. My son is the "Oh God, here we go again" kid. The school cares, I can say that for sure. They care about my boys, and want to see them succeed. But, like most people, they can only take so much before a final opinion is formed, and I fear Kyle has finally reached that point with his school. He is creating a reputation for himself as THAT kid, and if he isn't careful, if I can't help him to stop soon, it will follow him for a long time to come.
So, kind principal (with absolutely no sarcasm at all), should you ever read this, I imagine it won't be hard for you to know whose mother this is and which Kyle in your school this is regarding. Therefore, I ask you to please...keep in mind:
His favorite color is pink. He likes purple too, but pink is the best. He loves Pokemon, Legos, Batman, and Star Wars, but he'll also curl up with me and watch Disney Princess movies on a loop and love every second of it. This is the first year reading comes easily for him, and he has discovered a shared love with his mother of Goosebumps and historical fiction. He can't eat a lot of foods, but loves almost everything he can eat. He's terrified of the dark, and thinks his cat has super powers. (I'm inclined to agree on that note.)
He is the oldest of my children and often decides that means he needs to take on a caretaker role, no matter how often I tell him not to. If I have a headache, he will bring me water and a book, and tuck me in. When his brother had appendicitis and was in and out of the hospital last May, he made up games and songs to entertain him. When his baby brother was born in 2015, he spent hours coming up with stories for him, and asking if the baby was big enough to share his cookies yet. He wants to donate his hair in memory of a little girl he met while in the hospital who lost her cancer fight. He's donated his puny savings from his piggy bank to homeless people, and has been known to ask me to buy bottled water to keep in the car so he can hand it out to those people in need of help. When I order pizza to the house, he insists on doing the Pizza Party Dance for the delivery man and hugging him for his pizza.
I know, believe me, I know, that he is difficult. I know that he is stubborn, that he wants things his way or the highway. I know he is smart but won't do his work unless there's something tangible in it for him. I know that he can come across as rude, incorrigible, and lazy.
To you, he is THAT kid.
To me, he is my baby with a heart of gold who has been through Hell. I just hope someday, you can see that gold heart that I see.
Because he's a good boy, really.
However, this isn't one of those planned and carefully researched posts. This, is another in a long line of "He's a good boy, really, I swear" posts.
As most, if not all of you, know by now, we moved to Colorado at the beginning of November. Moves are always hard on kids, especially children who don't do well with change to begin with like Kyle. I fully anticipated some behavioral issues. I was not, however, expecting my beloved son to become a total stranger.
I was at home this afternoon, sitting on my couch, reading a book while the King slept on my lap. There were just shy of two hours left in the school day for Kyle and Taryn, and I was enjoying my few minutes of peace.
Then my phone rang.
It was the school. Again. This seems to happen on average once a week these days. In Florida, it was the nurse calling to let me know Kyle had had a nosebleed or wouldn't eat his lunch. Here in Colorado, it is, almost always, the principal's office.
Up until two months ago, it was a coin toss as to which of my children would be in the office waiting for me. However, Taryn's behavior was easily corrected with a reward system and a long talk. So now, it's always Kyle.
Last week, Kyle caused quite the stir at school when he ran out of his classroom into another second grade room. It took all three second grade teachers to corral him at that time for his principal to come get him, take him to the office, attempt to calm him down, and call me to come get him.
Today, Kyle ran out of gym class. When his principal was called to get him, he had to carry Kyle to his office, because Kyle refused to get up. When I got there, Kyle was in shut down mode.
My son is a bright, bubbly, talkative kid. You can't always understand him and he doesn't always make sense, but he'll talk your ear off given half the chance. To see him so still and so quiet is disconcerting to say the least.
And then the principal started talking, and although he was polite and trying to be fair and kind (to his credit), I could see it in his face. My son is the difficult kid. My son is the "Oh God, here we go again" kid. The school cares, I can say that for sure. They care about my boys, and want to see them succeed. But, like most people, they can only take so much before a final opinion is formed, and I fear Kyle has finally reached that point with his school. He is creating a reputation for himself as THAT kid, and if he isn't careful, if I can't help him to stop soon, it will follow him for a long time to come.
So, kind principal (with absolutely no sarcasm at all), should you ever read this, I imagine it won't be hard for you to know whose mother this is and which Kyle in your school this is regarding. Therefore, I ask you to please...keep in mind:
His favorite color is pink. He likes purple too, but pink is the best. He loves Pokemon, Legos, Batman, and Star Wars, but he'll also curl up with me and watch Disney Princess movies on a loop and love every second of it. This is the first year reading comes easily for him, and he has discovered a shared love with his mother of Goosebumps and historical fiction. He can't eat a lot of foods, but loves almost everything he can eat. He's terrified of the dark, and thinks his cat has super powers. (I'm inclined to agree on that note.)
He is the oldest of my children and often decides that means he needs to take on a caretaker role, no matter how often I tell him not to. If I have a headache, he will bring me water and a book, and tuck me in. When his brother had appendicitis and was in and out of the hospital last May, he made up games and songs to entertain him. When his baby brother was born in 2015, he spent hours coming up with stories for him, and asking if the baby was big enough to share his cookies yet. He wants to donate his hair in memory of a little girl he met while in the hospital who lost her cancer fight. He's donated his puny savings from his piggy bank to homeless people, and has been known to ask me to buy bottled water to keep in the car so he can hand it out to those people in need of help. When I order pizza to the house, he insists on doing the Pizza Party Dance for the delivery man and hugging him for his pizza.
I know, believe me, I know, that he is difficult. I know that he is stubborn, that he wants things his way or the highway. I know he is smart but won't do his work unless there's something tangible in it for him. I know that he can come across as rude, incorrigible, and lazy.
To you, he is THAT kid.
To me, he is my baby with a heart of gold who has been through Hell. I just hope someday, you can see that gold heart that I see.
Because he's a good boy, really.
No comments:
Post a Comment