Soapbox

I Prefer the Square Pegs, Myself

So I’ve got this kid.. and he’s starting preschool next week. That’s because he’s so grown up, right? Well, I thought he was, until I started thinking about sending him off to some stranger two mornings a week. He feels grown up and is disappointed that he won’t get to ride a school bus for a few more years yet.

He tells me he’s all ready for school now because, "Mom, I’m growing big and big!" I smile and agree that he certainly is, but for crying out loud, he’s sitting there in his Mickey Mouse underpants with his "soft white blanket" watching Shining Time Station and I’m half terrified for him. He’s so little and odd, and unique, and I don’t want the world to put out that strange light inside him. I cringe at the thought of him facing the scorn of others when he’s playing one of his lovely imaginary games, or refers to himself as Gumby and they don’t know what the heck he’s talking about.

I remember my own numbing realization at about age 6 or 7 as to what it was to be popular, and the clear knowledge that I never would be. No one understood me, and I took alot of knocks for that. I don’t know who this kid is going to turn out to be, but I wish I could spare him some of the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune that surely await him.

Ok, I realize that this is only preschool we’re talking here, but it’s the beginning of the long road of not only schooling but socialization and putting my funny little square peg into a round hole. (And if you know my peg, he’ll never fit in.)

I read a column in the paper about sending kids off into the world, and it said it perfectly.

"Dear World, my young son starts school today… teach him to have faith in his own ideas, even if everyone says they’re wrong. Do it gently, if you can..he’s such a nice fellow, my little son."

Oh my. And I still have college tuition to look forward to.