We visited the classroom and met the teachers of my soon-to-be-3 year old’s preschool class. He’ll be starting next week. The teachers went over the daily routine for the kids, and explained all the stuff we need to know, from the drop-off and pick-up procedures to how they’ll handle taking the kids to the restroom.

An interesting thing we learned is that one of the kids in the class has peanut allergies. Of all the kids I’ve known since having kids of my own, this is the first time I’ve encountered this well-known condition. For this child (which one we don’t know), the allergy is apparently severe. Severe enough to affect what all the other children can bring to class with them. Snacks and lunches, for all the children in this class (12 total), must not contain any peanuts or peanut products.

This is kind of a weird situation. I feel for the parents of the child—I know dealing with that kind of allergy has got to be tough, not to mention the fear they live with. But their situation is now affecting 11 other families. Eleven other children cannot bring peanut butter and jelly sandwiches (a staple of kids everywhere) and many other foods with peanuts in the ingredients. This is really not a simple thing. Check the ingredients on many of the snack and lunch foods in your home. We have to check the labels on everything we buy for and send with our child to school. So do the other 10 families.

Fortunately, the class is only twice a week, so we can work around this situation. But the concept of a single child with a problem affecting so many other families to this extent is a little . . . noteworthy.

The other parents at the meeting were obviously, and vocally, stunned by the rule.
“Peanut butter is the only thing I know my kid will eat.”
“Peanuts are in everything.”
“What will happen if someone forgets one time?”
No one was rude or inconsiderate—the class-wide rule just surprised everyone.

Imagine if a couple times a week, no one in your office could wear cotton, for the sake of a coworker’s severe allergies to the fiber.

It’s an awkward position to be put in. No respectable parent wants to harm a child by action or inaction or mistake, but it’s also pretty invasive for one child’s condition to control the perfectly normal choices and actions of 11 other families.

[Edit: See my September 5 2007 post for a post script to this item.]

Bullgrit
bullgrit@totalbullgrit.com

My 6 year old, his best friend, my 2 year old, and I went out in the back yard last evening with water balloons. The boys were very excited, and were very anxious to play immediately, but I found filling balloons with water is not an easy task. It’s aggravatingly difficult, in fact.

The package of balloons came with a special nozel that attaches to the water hose, but there was no shut off for the water other than at the wall. I filled the first balloon easily, but then struggled to tie off the end. I struggled and struggled and struggled and &%$*##@* struggled. All the while, the water is flowing from the hose. And the boys were coming up to me wanting to play with everything every 10 seconds.

I eventually rigged up a system of filling the balloons without wasting too much water (much water was still wasted, just not “too much”). I never managed to get good or fast with tying off a small balloon filled with water, but I at least got about a dozen balloons filled and tied.

Preparation took about 20 minutes. Destruction took about 2 minutes. Unfortunately, most of the balloons would not pop when they hit a kid’s body—they would bounce off a boy’s back, fall into the grass, and burst on the ground. Rather disappointing. I threw one at my 6 year old’s chest, but he scrunched down instinctively, so the balloon hit him right on the nose. It bounced off and burst on the ground. Fortunately he was not hurt by the smack to the face, and just continued running and laughing.

I think water balloons might be more fun with older kids, so they and I can throw them hard enough to burst on a body. Watching them wet only the ground was just disappointing. So I ended up taking the hose to the boys to get them good and wet.

Bullgrit
bullgrit@totalbullgrit.com

I hadn’t played World of Warcraft in a couple weeks. I really wanted to get into the game last night to adventure some, and build on my game character. I logged in about 8:00 p.m., and had a total escapist fun time for three and a half hours. With the kids in bed, the wife reading a book, and the headphones on my ears, I could really get into the world and adventure of Azeroth (the name of the game world).

But when I logged out, at around 11:30 p.m., I thought about my daily blog. I hadn’t written anything yet. I was tired, and really didn’t feel real creative right then. So, rather than stress over something that I do because it’s supposed to be fun, let this be my post for today:

<insert witty, insightful, and entertaining thought and/or opinion>

Thank you for your understanding.

Bullgrit
bullgrit@totalbullgrit.com

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