This photo reminds me of the hand prints in plaster of paris that my twin daughters made in kindergarten. Their impressions were a bit deeper and more defined, but the color is the same and probably the hand shown above is about the size of their little hands at the age of five. Their kindergarten teachers very wisely inserted a wire (paperclip?) at the top of each plaque so they could be hung on the wall, and that's what we did at our house. The two matching hands were hung below our spice rack, just about eye level with a two- or three-year-old child.
Their brother was three years younger than the twins, and he was left alone at home with Mom when they went off to kindergarten and school. He wanted so much to be able to go to school when they did. One day when he was looking at their hand prints on the wall, I told him, "When your hands are that big, you will be able to go to kindergarten." Oh, how he wanted to become a big boy and go to school! He was probably two or three when I told him that, and his pudgy little hand had a long way to go to be as big as those prints.
The twins were getting to go to school when he was two, when he was three, when he was four. And five years old seemed so far away to him. He was four when he asked me why I hadn't gotten HIM a twin, and I replied, "It doesn't work that way." "Then get me one NOW," he insisted. "It doesn't work that way, either," I told him, imagining having to birth a child the size of my big-for-his-age son.
He began to measure his hand inside the prints of his sisters' hands, and one day he came running to tell me, "I can go to school now! I can go to school!"
"Not yet," I said.
"Yes!" he insisted. "Come and see!"
He ran ahead of me into the kitchen, put his hand into the hand prints on the wall, and said, "See? My hand is big enough!"
Oh, the tears when I had to explain that he was bigger than his sisters had been. His four-year-old hand was as big as their five-year-old hands had been. He still had many months -- almost a full year -- before he could go to kindergarten.
"But you promised!" he cried. "You promised!"
Who could have predicted this sort of situation? Not me, obviously. I felt awful for having misled my little boy. And my son lost faith in his mother's promises.
6 comments:
Oh, Bonnie, what a touching story -- how many of us moms have been there? We ALL inadvertently break promises -- and our own hearts as well as our kids'.
I suppose preschool's not a great option for you. Too bad; my kids loved their preschool experience and both came out well prepared for kindergarten -- particularly in the friends department.
This was in the 1960s, and this is a whole new era. My grandchildren had pre-school, but not my children.
it reminds me of hoping every year i would finally be tall enough to ride the "big" rides at the amusement park.... heartwarming indeed....
What a poignant and heartwarming story, Bonnie and so well told too. Being a parent is no mean feat. I salute you for finding a creative solution to the problem in the first instance - even it if didn't quite work out in the end! I'm sure though, that he ultimately forgave you!
Oh, this just tugs at my heart strings. I had a "stay at home" waiting to go off to school like his older sibling, too. The pre-school was directly across the street from our home. Each day there were cars lined up picking up and dropping off children. My little one would stand at the picture window, just barely able to see over the sill, and watch his brother go across the street, and dissapear with the other kids into the house.
It wasn't long before he realized that after his nap, brother would be coming home. He'd toddle over to the window with his teething biscuit, and take up his post. He wanted SO MUCH to go too!
I was impressed with your original "solution". It's one of those parenting hurdles, those first times of "betrayal", with our promises broken.
I wish I still had mine. I so remember doing it. We also made butter out of cream, which impressed me to no end.
There was a ride at Paragon Park, The Turnpike Cars, which you could only ride if you measured up big enough on a yardstick. Every year I would check. By the time I was tall enough the ride was no big deal to me.
Bonnie, I'm a Taurus too.
Post a Comment