For the past couple of weeks, I’ve been living in dread of this morning. As recently as two days ago, Lilia started throwing hard, plastic objects at me when I mentioned going back to school. Yesterday, I hung her formal attire in plain view to help her prepare mentally, and she hurled Jio’s new school shoes at it. Ordinarily she loves dressing up, but I was afraid she’d grab it and rip the fabric to shreds, so I had to put it aside. On other occasions, she has cried fat tears, making me think that she had endured some trauma at school that I knew nothing about.
On the best of days, we have to drag her out of bed in the morning to get ready for school, and since she’s been sleeping in until 9AM or so these past two weeks, I could just imagine how difficult it would be to rouse her this morning at 7AM for the first day of third grade. I was thinking yesterday that I would need to tranquilize her in order to get her into my car. When she doesn’t want to do something, she starts thrashing and flailing, and boy, those little fists can hurt.
So this morning I asked my husband to get her up. I was busy making breakfast when she came into the kitchen. She seemed surprisingly chipper. She ate her breakfast, got dressed all by herself (including tights), and checked the inventory of her school bags. Towel? Check. Tissues? Check. She was at the door, raring to go, while I was still in my pajamas.
“Man or woman?” she signed, wondering about the gender of her new teacher. Her eyes were sparkling. “Today I will get new textbooks!”
It was all very weird, but in a good way. Maybe she was possessed by demons, and they’ve flown the coop.