I signed up for those Facebook memories. Every day the site reminds me of frivolous things I've said and past food stories I've written. Today's memory was my first misgiving about Vinny's school last year. It was the bus bullying incident five days into the school year. I said, "I'm beginning to wonder if I picked the right school." THAT is the moment that I should have started looking at other schools.
Instead, I held my breath and tried to have a little faith. I'm not a huge person of faith. I try. I do. It's just so easy to put up a wall and instead of believing that there is goodness/a plan/an omniscient being guiding me... it's hard. I mostly just stick to having faith in a future where things will get better.
I'm not placing my faith in an entirely new schooling system as well as group of teachers (or guides as the terminology goes) and school. Part of this new school is that it's attached to a Jewish temple. Because of this, the second week of school gets two bonus days off for the new year.
I've been trying (in the inept way that someone who has tried on many religious hats can) to explain a bit about the world's religions to Vinny. I've explained that church is where some people go to talk to God. That different people like to talk to God in different places. So far it's not going very well. He's pretty sure that I'm a complete moron. "God is a REAL PERSON, Mom. He's everyone's father." Awesome. You don't even want to hear what he had to say when I explained that his grandfathers were both living with God in Heaven above the earth. Suddenly, we were living a David Sedaris essay.
So, in an attempt to explain thousands of years of belief, I summed up Rosh Hashanah by bringing it all back to food. Honey and apples are two of his favorites. So, in a continuation of my dunce-cap earning ways, I made an apple cake for breakfast and explained that he had the day off because it was the new year for people of the Jewish faith and before I could even really get into my great, prepared story, he declared his absolute hatred of apple cake.
"But you like apples."
"Do you have any of those honey apples left?"
"No, I used the last apple to make the apple cake."
"I HATE apple cake."
"But... apples! Cake! I'm offering cake for breakfast!"
"I hate Jewish people if I have to eat that disgusting cake."
And that is where I really earned that parenting "F" for the day. A panic quickly spiked in my chest. What if he repeated that line to... well, anyone - but I'd be especially mortified if he said that to anyone at his school!
"No! Wait - Jewish people did not make you apple cake. That was me."
"Just don't ever make me eat that. Can I have some chips?"
"What? No. Go watch TV."
"I'm going to watch that dinosaur show you hate."
"Great." I was left in the kitchen with a fork and warm apple cake. It did not go to waste.
Today he went back to school and I wasn't summoned to the office to discuss what kind of intolerance we were encouraging at home. SO THERE'S THAT.
This afternoon I was met by a smiling kid who eschews the goodbye handshake for a farewell hug for his teacher. He insisted on kissing his sister hello and cooed at her before climbing into the car.
As we wound our way through the tree-lined streets that marked our path home, I ruminated on how his school days have always been a mystery to me. He doesn't just automatically gab about his days and questions usually make him clam up.
As he munched on a Honeycrisp I pointed at the tree-fort at the edge of the schoolyard. "Look how cool that is!"
"Which one were you looking at, Mom?"
"That big one."
"That's MINE!" The pride swelled in his voice. I knew that. "I'm going to work on it EVERY DAY."
"What else did you do that you liked today?"
"I don't know."
Shoot. So close. I bit my tongue as we drove and then... it happened. "Do you know what we're doing tomorrow?" he asked.
"No, what?"
"We're making a volcano explode! Remember when we did the soda bottle experiment? It's like that. But did you know how old the volcano is?" And that was all it took. He filled me all in on what they were studying that meant they were going to set off a baking soda fueled volcano (and he remembered a day of kitchen science experiments that I had pulled together off Pintrest - bonus!) He's so excited by the science behind it, the story that accompanies the lesson and the thought that we could totally get some clay and build our own personal volcano.
That's not all they're working on at school, either. There's more. And he gets it. He's excited. He's invested. And finally, I think it's safe to say... we made the right decision.
(Except about the apple cake. Which I ate half of... okay most of. Alright! I ate all but two pieces! Don't judge, it was small - and delicious.)
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