My daughter just started her third week of kindergarten. She's child number five in our family, so this isn't my first rodeo. I've had two who loved it, one who hated it and one who rotated between love and hate depending on the day.
But I had great expectations for this kid. I knew she'd adore it. After all, she's outgoing, social and loves to learn. Yet, so far, the kindergartner is not impressed.
She doesn't have an anxiety-ridden school phobia, but more so a longing for the last few months where she stayed home with mommy — sans schedule — all day, every day. School days, according to her, are too long, kind of boring and "not really so fun."
Back when my son (the one who hated kindergarten) used to stress about school and cry, it made me want to cry, too. I knew there was a ball of worry in the pit of his stomach that stayed with him all day. My daughter, on the other hand, has fun at school while she's there; it's just not as much fun as she has when she's home.
I can handle that much better. But the way this animated kiddo chooses to deal with her discontent is hilariously passive aggressive and cracks me up every time. For example: anti-kindergarten songwriting.
My kid loves singing. She belts out tunes with the volume and enthusiasm of an actor on an actual Broadway stage. If the walls of our house could talk, they would sing the entire "Frozen" soundtrack; it's that bad. She also likes writing her own songs and performs original pieces like she's Taylor Swift. But instead of boys, she sings about things like the slimy tomatoes inmy goulash and the atrocities heaped upon her at the dentist's office.
In light of the new school, my dramatic little firecracker has married these two favorite pastimes and appears to be writing a one-woman show about her distaste for kindergarten.
"It is so boring being in kindergarten," has become her go-to jam, with a catchy little refrain that is simply the word "boring" chanted over and over again. She also hits hard on the feels with the emotional ballad, "Missing mommy when I'm at kindergarten breaks my heart into little pieces."
Seriously, kid? Could you be any better at delivering a maternal gut punch? Thank God her performances are so entertaining, or my heart probably would break into little pieces.
Another example: Barbie hates kindergarten, too.
My daughter loves playing Barbies. Her Barbie house is in the dining room, which means we can all hear her play ... all the time. I rarely even notice the words she's voicing for her dolls because it's parental white noise. I hear it, yet I don't hear it.
But the other day, the voices cut through. I heard one Barbie say in a very high-pitched voice, "Don't you just hate kindergarten?"
"Oh, yes," said the other one who, oddly enough, was dressed like a Vegas dancer. "It is so boring and takes too long. I wish we could just stay home. Don't you?"
This caused Ken to chime in with, "We all want to stay home."
It's like the kid is working with a highly skilled team of passive-aggressive teenagers or something. I know better than to let it get to me, but if she sings the lyrics "I start to cry but keep it in my mouth so no one knows" one more time, I might have to look into homeschooling after all.
The kid is too good. Lynn Kirkle is an author and lives in Omaha with her husband and five kids. She writes twice a month for momaha.com and can be found at www.lynnpainter. com or on Twitter @LAPainter.