There are certain times of the year which most parents eagerly await. For some it’s Christmas, when the house is colorfully decorated, and the children can hardly wait to tear into their packages. For others, it’s Halloween, when the kids look so cute in their little costumes, or Easter, when they seem so grown up in their very best clothes. Birthdays are always fun, too, but for this parent, the one day of the year which can never get here soon enough is “back to school” day!
Maybe it’s just me, but this had been a particularly squirrelly summer and my kids (of which there are four) spent most of July and almost all of August bouncing off the walls and finding new and creative ways to drive me and their mother nuts. For example, this was the summer that my teenage daughter decided to spend her Sunday mornings helping out at the Sacramento Zoo. Now, at first glance, that seems like the kind of quality activity any good parent would encourage their child to undertake. But last Sunday, as she prepared to drive off to the zoo, the last words out of her mouth were, “And by the way, Dad, I’ll be working with the carnivores today.”
Now, on Sunday mornings, I usually try to relax in my favorite chair and slowly read the newspaper from one end to the other. Unfortunately, one simply cannot do that knowing his only daughter is out somewhere interacting with a bunch of wild lions and bears.
When she finally returned home and I had convinced myself that she was free of any fang or claw marks, I asked her how her day had gone.
“Oh, I had a great time,” she assured me.
“Did you learn anything?” I inquired.
“Dad,” she explained with amazement, not quite using these words, “you really haven’t seen animal droppings until you’ve seen grizzly bear droppings!”
My sons have also gone out of their way this summer to make my life much more interesting than it needs to be. One has taken to sneaking out of the house late at night and leaving a blanket dummy behind in his place; another has started drawing his own anti-social and often blood-dripping comic strip; and the third, who isn’t even ten yet, has somehow learned a number of cuss words that I don’t even use.
So, for more weeks than I care to admit, I have been eagerly waiting to hand my children back over to the overworked and underpaid teachers of our local schools. Each year, almost miraculously, they somehow manage to get all four of them back on track and interested in activities that won’t cut another year or two off my life.
There is, of course, like everything else, a downside to back to school day. Among other things, the preparation alone can kill you. All the boys have, once again, grown at least two inches and although they don’t particularly mind going off to school prepared for a flood, their mother does, and they all need new pants. They also need new haircuts, book backpacks, pencils and pens, notebook paper, folders, underwear, and worst of all, new footwear. I still can’t get seem to get my head around the fact that shoes, which only last about three months nowadays, no longer cost $9.99 a pair like they used to when I was a kid. In fact, a person could almost spend a week vacationing in Hawaii for what it now costs to buy three teenage boys new tennis shoes.
Anyway, when the glorious morning of back-to-school day does finally arrive, one is still not completely out of the woods. Among other things, six people suddenly all need to use the bathroom at the very same time; you have to make sure everyone knows the new hiding place for the house key; you have to somehow come up with all kinds of weird combinations of nickels, dimes and quarters (which you don’t have to begin with) to pay for milk money and assorted lunches; and for those who have decided to take a bag lunch, you have to referee the fight between who gets the desirable chocolate pudding snack and who gets stuck with the dreaded fruit cup; and finally, you have to call your boss and explain you’re going to be at least an hour late for work because it’s the first day of school and your whole family is in chaos.
Is it all worth it? You bet it is. Anything just to be able to utter those five wonderful little words: They’re all back in school!