First grade. I can only very vaguely remember anything about my first grade days. I remember first learning to read and write, having nap time, and that’s about it. My 6 year old started first grade yesterday.

He’s been a bit anxious about the new grade. Many people talk of first grade as the first level of “real school”, but the kids started learning to read and write, add and subtract in kindergarten. First grade is just a continuation of and building on what the kids have already been learning. First grade is really not that different from kindergarten. They just won’t have nap time in class anymore. But still, my son is a little worried.

We’ve talked regularly about first grade over the past few weeks, and we’ve been to the classroom to meet the teacher together. Unfortunately, only one of his kindergarten classmates is in his first grade class. I don’t know who is more upset that his best friend from kindergarten wound up in a different first grade class: my son or my wife and I.

He woke up at 5:00 a.m. yesterday morning. He was thinking about first grade. We brought him into our bed and talked with him, with the lights out, till 6:00 when the 2 year old woke up. The morning went fine, and he got out of the car in the carpool line, and went in the school without a problem.

When he got off the bus in the afternoon, he was just bubbling with excitement. He wanted to tell us all about school. We listened as he just rambled on and on. It was all a good sign.

He had his last tee-ball game last night at 6:00 p.m. We left home early to pick up some dinner on the way, and he fell asleep in the van. He woke up and ate, then went out and played ball.

When we got home and he wanted to talk about school. We had concerns about all the new kids in his class. It’s interesting to hear this stuff. It’s easy to forget how scary the world can be to a young child. Things that we just ignore or shrug off can really stick in a kid’s mind and worry them. A classroom of 20-some new faces is daunting to a kid; stack on to that all the new lessons and learning from the teachers, and the first few days in a new grade can be overwhelming.

About an hour after we put him to bed last night, he got up and came into the den. He was worrying about school again. We talked with him and his mom held him for a few minutes. Eventually he fell to sleep.

We’ve talked with other parents, and our son’s anxiety is normal and common. But it still puts a lump in our throats when we hear and see how nervous thinking about the new experience makes him. We just remember how excited he was to tell us about his day when he came off the bus, and we know he’ll do just fine tomorrow. In a week, he’ll have made new friends in his class, and he’ll be asking if they can come over to play on the weekends.

Bullgrit
bullgrit@totalbullgrit.com

I’m a meat and potatoes kind of guy. I like most kinds of meat and I like most kinds of potatoes. When I was younger, like in high school and college, I was a pizza kind of guy. (I liked pizza with most kinds of meat.)

I was in late high school when Domino’s started delivering pizza in my small town. Domino’s had a very small area of delivery, so we’d have to actually get in our car and drive to meet the delivery guy half way. This concept makes me laugh, now.

When I went to college, I lived in an apartment closer to the center of the city, so Domino’s would bring their pizza all the way to my door. That was cool. Domino’s in that college town had a “Student Special”: medium one-topping pizza and two cans of Coke for $4.99. If I wasn’t really hungry, that medium pizza could make for two meals. I lived on that deal for a couple years.

So you see, I loved pizza. But I started to get a little tired of it. My taste moved up to steak. By the time we had our first son, I was pretty much off the pizza craving. (Although, I still absolutely love the pizza from a local shop in my home town; I still like and want that pizza.)

When our first son was still very young, he didn’t like meats. We tried several different kinds of meats, and we tried getting meats into him several different ways. We thought we had the trick with spaghetti, but he would spit out the hamburger in the sauce. I couldn’t understand how my son didn’t like meat.

The first meat we could get him to eat and swallow was pepperoni, on pizza. Both our boys love pizza. LOVE pizza! They would eat it every day if we’d let them. We try to keep it to no more than once a week—he can eat it every day when he goes to college. But now I’ve completely burned out on pizza (except for that one from my home town). I actually don’t like Domino’s and Pizza Hut pizza anymore. It’s sad.

Fortunately, my 6 year old (who wouldn’t eat any meat as late as 2 years ago) now likes steak. Last night we went to Outback for steak. We don’t go there very often, and even less often with the boys, but I was really hungry, and really wanted a steak. In the past, when we’ve gone to Outback as a family, we go through the drive through at McDonald’s to get the boys a Happy Meal to eat at the table with us. Tonight, though, we didn’t do that.

We got the 2 year old a bowl of mac-and-cheese, and the 6 year old actually asked for a steak—we got him the kid’s steak plate. He ate the entire 4-oz steak. If I hadn’t seen him do it, I don’t think I would have believed it. This is the kid that used to didn’t like meat at all, and now he’s eating a cut of sirloin. Wonder of wonders. That’s my boy.

Bullgrit
bullgrit@totalbullgrit.com

This afternoon, I took my 6 year old to a comic book shop for the first time. We left the house with no particular place to go—we just needed to get out of the house for a while, and it was too hot to play outside. When I suggested the destination, he got excited. The nearest shop I know of is a hole-in-the-wall kind of place.

I’ve been to many comic book shops over the years, and they range from dark, gothic shops to bright, fluorescent stores. The owners and employees range from surly “fat-beards” with a chip on their shoulder to happy, helpful, friendly geeks. My preferred places are those bright stores with friendly geeks.

I had only been to this particular place one time, and it leaned a bit to the dark and surly. I know of a better place in the area, but it’s at least a half-hour drive away. I got my son excited about going to a comic shop before I really thought about what the closest place was, and kind of cringed at what his first experience with a comic shop would be. I hoped I could keep things good for him despite the establishment.

We walked into the store, and I was happy to see two normal-looking guys talking at the counter. The clerk immediately asked if he could help us with anything—a good sign. I told him we were just looking.

My son’s head was on a swivel, looking all around the room. There were comic books and graphic novels everywhere; I think he was in visual overload. He was quiet and intent. He looked at everything, and took his time moving from shelf to shelf. I made sure he quickly passed over anything of questionable imagery.

Contrary to what some non-comics-fans think, comic books are not specifically for children. Many comics are strictly for adults. Like most movies are PG or R rated—not for children—so are comic books. And even the ones not specifically for “adult audiences” can be a bit intense for young kids.

We spent many minutes looking at the new comics, some comic-character toys, and some new and old role playing game books. A few patrons moved through, in and out, of the store. The patrons were all males, and just normal guys. My initial concern about the environment was dropped—the store was physically dark, with dark walls and dark shelves, and just sufficient lighting, but none of the employees or customers were like that.

My boy found a Spider-Man comic on the new issues shelf and wanted to get it. The cover showed The Kingpin – an evil crime lord. (He’s not just a “bad guy,” he is Evil.) I paged through the book and saw this issue was almost entirely a long violent sequence between Spider-Man and The Kingpin, so I said no to that book. I suggested we go to the back of the store and look through their old comics in boxes and plastic sleeves.

New comics are around four bucks each, and I figured many of the old books wouldn’t be more than that. Plus, the sufficiently old ones might be cheesy enough to not bother a child’s sensibilities.

We searched through probably a hundred Spider-Man books until my son found one that intrigued him: Spider-Man versus The Lizard and some other reptilian/dinosaurian monster. The book cover was in bad shape, but it was only priced at $2.50. Its “pre-damaged” condition assuaged my feelings about giving a 6 year old a 30 year old, collected comic book. (He looks at his comics so much that they fall apart within a couple weeks.)

We went back to the front of the store where I picked up a couple new issues of Incredible Hulk. As we were about to check out, I asked the clerk if they had any Marvel comics (the publisher of Spider-Man and such) for young kids. They had several. The clerk showed us where they were on the new issues shelf, and my boy picked out a new Spider-Man to go with his ancient one. We were both happy and excited about our new comic books.

We made the purchase and went back out to the van. My son of course wanted to look through his books as soon as we were buckled into our seats. I wanted to look at my books right away, too, but I had to drive.

* * *

On the subject of comic book shops, I will add that I actually worked at a comic book shop for a week back in the late 90s.

I was writing freelance at the time, and so had a very flexible schedule during my days. The owner and sole operator of the comic shop where I made all my comic purchases, a bright, clean store, wanted to go out of town for a few days to a major convention. One of my long time dreams was to run a comic book store. (Not exactly a “change the world” dream, I admit.) So I offered to run the shop while he went to the convention.

The owner was supposed to be gone only three or four days, but winter weather held him up wherever he was—I don’t remember in what city the convention was being held. Through regular phone check ins, he let me continue to run the store for seven full days, from opening till closing.

That was one of the most enjoyable jobs I ever had. I got to hang out in a bright and clean comic book store all day, looking through the old issues, reading the new issues, talking with fellow comics fans, and just generally getting my comics geek on for seven glorious days.

Bullgrit

We went for a family walk this afternoon around a nearby lake. I had already taken my daily exercise walk, so this was a bonus. We’ve walked around other lakes in our area, and they all have paved walkways, and are pretty flat. This was our first time exploring this particular lake’s walkway, and it turned out to be quite different.

The walkway is only paved maybe ten percent of its length, and the rest is dirt trail up and down sometimes fairly steep terrain. You have to keep your eyes on the ground watching your steps among all the roots and rocks. And the trek must be about 20 miles.

Well, okay, maybe it was only 2 or 3 miles. Actually, I usually don’t mind a good hike through non-paved terrain; I often enjoy it. But having to do it with an eye on two young boys, a wife, my own footing, and those sneaky joggers and bikers who don’t call out their approach in the twisting and turning and narrow path makes it extra tiring—I only have two eyes. We weren’t prepared for as long a trek as it turned out to be. We hadn’t brought our water bottles with us from the van—we won’t make that mistake again.

After about three-quarters of the way, I ended up carrying the boys on my shoulders (one at a time) to give them a rest and still keep up our pace. Unfortunately, neither of the boys like riding up on my shoulders. They were both kind of scared, and wanted to hold my hands while they were up there. Try walking up and down hills, across roots and rocks, with 30 or 60 pounds on your shoulders, and holding your hands above your head—it ain’t easy.

When it got to the point that neither of the boys wanted to ride on my shoulders, and they obviously couldn’t keep up any pace, my wife stopped with them so they could rest. I walked on to get the van, and then came back and picked them up where the trail crossed a road.

All told, it was a good walk. The boys did surprisingly well, considering the distance and terrain, and no one complained. Well, I think I complained a time or two. (Really, it turned out much longer than I expected.) We’ll have to do that walk again sometime —but maybe not in the hottest part of the day, in July.

Bullgrit
bullgrit@totalbullgrit.com