My grandson started kindergarten this week. It’s always tough when a distant dream becomes a frightening reality. The adjustment has been difficult. The first day was long and filled with anxiety. There was great apprehension, much fear and worrying, and a whole lot of sobbing . . . but I survived. The second day was a little easier for me; but my son, who is a stay-at-home dad, was a nervous wreck.

We hate to see our little sweetie grow up and go out into the big, bad world ALL ALONE. Why do kids begin school at such a tender age, anyway? Five is so young. They should wait until at least twelve. I see these little cherubs walking to school and I wonder, "How can their mothers let them outside alone?"

I'm a little overprotective, I guess. I don't understand why grandma can't ride the bus with him and sit next to him in school, for the first month at least. No one can protect my sweet potato like his she-bear grammie. Who will kiss his boo-boos if he falls down? Who will yell at the naughty kids who teach him bad words? Who will threaten the bullies who pick on him? Who will see that the teacher gives him the extra special attention that he deserves?

That first day, my imagination was enough to fuel my worries, but then I learned that Cobi had been beat up during recess! This is one of the worst things a grandmother can hear. (I had hoped that my biggest shock the first week of school would be hearing that he'd called the teacher a doo-doo head or a stinky face.) I should have had the foresight to pay off the playground monitor so she'd watch out for him.

It seems that my brave little man tried to rescue a first grade girl who was beingharassed by an older boy. When Cobi defended her, the bigger boy knocked him down and gave him a bloody nose. Of course, grandma wanted to go to school and give that bully what for, visit his parents, and call the principal; but my grandson assured me that it wasn’t a big deal. In fact, he seemed unbothered by the entire incident.

When I asked what happened after the boy punched him, Cobi casually explained that he hadn’t hit back because he "didn't want to hurt the big kid." Grandma couldn’t help but smile at that.

If you’re a parent or grandparent, you probably feel as I do . . . it’s harder to deal with adversities affecting our kids than it is facing things that hurt us personally. Don’t you wish we could just wrap them in bubble wrap to protect them when they’re away from us?

Cobi is speeding toward adulthood faster than a computer virus spreads across the web. He recently took the training wheels off his bike. He’s growing up! Before I know it, he’ll be driving the car, having children of his own, and visiting me in the old fogies’ home. (At least I hope he’ll visit.)

I hope that time won't come too soon. There are too many fun things we need to do together before that happens. I plan to savor every one of them.

Marsha Jordan
Author of "Hugs, Hope, and Peanut Butter"
hugsandhope@gmail.com
www.hugsandhope.org

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