SIDE SALAD - Everything crunchy is good.

BACK TO SCHOOL

Today's a big day at Casa del Ensalada: Salad Boy starts middle school.

We do a traditional thing each year where we take a photo on the first day of school. This year is a big deal, not only because he's going to a new school, but because he'll ride the school bus every day for the first time.

So, this is the sixth grade photo, taken with his neighbor and buddy, Christian:

This is the sixth grade photo, taken with Christian - and without any patience:

The head tilt denotes a significant ebb in tolerance.

"Sorry Christian," he said.

"S'okay," Christian said.

Gotta love the retro T-shirts they're wearing.

"Brian," his grandmother said, "No one is going to know who the Rolling Stones are at school."

Luckily, their friend Gabe showed up to walk to the bus stop down at the corner.

First days of anything are easier when you've got your buds with you.

That didn't stop the group at the bus stop from hazing them.

"Hey, look at the sixth graders," I heard one of them say.

Everyone's got to eat a little dirt when you're at the bottom of the hill.

I think the parents were more nervous than the kids.

Claudia next door craned her head to see her son, Alberto, get on the bus. My mom, who apparently color-coordinated by wearing "Anxiety Pink," did her best to get a peek without embarassing Salad Boy.

We looked behind us; another mom and dad were using the Saladmobile as cover so they could hide and watch their daughter go off to school.

Ten minutes later, the bus finally came. And Salad Boy disappeared into the bowels of the educational transportation system.

You'll have to excuse me if I get a little sentimental.

For almost every day of his life, I've made his lunch and driven him to school or day care in the morning. I'm the one who made him breakfast and made sure he brushed his teeth. Mornings with him are a big thing to me. We always have the best conversations then. Sometimes they'd veer toward the bizarre and twisted, but each one was a precious gem.

We used to have a ritual where he would wave to me on the sly after I dropped him off in car line. It was like our secret handshake. For a couple years, he'd get upset if I didn't wave because I was distracted by, you know, traffic and wandering children. Then those tailed off.

Now it's a hug and a kiss. I don't mind, though. At least I get that, still.

Wait. Where's the bus going?

Aw, hell. I thought the bus was going to drive past our house. I had big plans. Mooning. Screaming like a loon. Flashing some man-boobage. The whole ball of wax. It was going to be the talk of the school.

There's always tomorrow.

Posted by Jeff at August 3, 2006 11:59 AM | TrackBack