“He’s my friend. He kisses me every morning. <rolls eyes> I don’t like it.”
She tells me they playdate often, and on previous occasions I’ve often noticed them together. The boy with her is handsome. Some kids are cute, cheeky, one boy in school that I know of sports long brownish-blonde curly locks that other mums have pointed out to me looks “so adorable.” But this boy isn’t cute, he’s actually handsome, with that gorgeous coloring you only seem to get if you mix Caucasian and Asian parentage (ok, the girl too)… Tall. Can’t imagine what a heartbreaker he grows up to be, with the roguish air about him.
Rockstar will later introduce him as one of his new friends from one of the other classes – and get a little huffy when I mention he’s got a girl friend, claiming the boy sticks with him, not this girl. And. OMG. Rockstar’s new friend towers a full head (maybe even shoulders too) over my son. Once again I think, They’re Going To Primary School At The Same Time? Is My Pint-Sized Son Going To Get Stampeded At Playtimes/ School Assemblies? Still don’t know how it happened, Rockstar really is in the lowest 2 or 3 percentile of height, for boys his age. And at 5 ft almost-7 inches, I’m the shortest family member on my mum’s side. Recently however, the Rockstar seems to have come to terms with his size, so I’d better shut up about it myself. When I ask if anyone comments about his size in school, he looks at me reproachfully, “No one says that anymore…”
I’m volunteering at Rockstar’s school free-play time again, and for kids who want to do extra writing practice, they have some charts with parts of a plant, at my station. I get cold feet, I don’t know where the sepal or filament are, but am assured at this stage it’s not like they have to know, it’s just one of the things they’re doing writing practice with. (There are charts with plant parts for the kids to follow).
“Mum. Come. I want you to meet my friends.” But a quick glance around, and Rockstar tut-tuts he can’t see his friends. “You go back to the writing place and I’ll try (some other activity). I’ll come by later.”
“Wow, you guys can fill those (plant) parts in? I don’t think I did this til I was much older.”
“We just did this yesterday.” They also point out a display of plants in pots and jars and I remember occasionally they also bring in bugs (those Malaysia Tourism paperweights my mum keeps sending Rockstar with the icky giant spiders, scorpions and beetles preserved in resin came in useful after all), and according to Rockstar, one day they had frogs.
“Rockstar’s Mum. Hello. Sometimes I play with Rockstar.” I look up from a table that is currently exclusively occupied by girls busy coloring their flower/ plant diagrams, to see one of Rockstar’s regular Partners In Crime, and Rockstar hovering nearby. It’s like Rockstar went “Come meet my Mum,” to his friends, same as he did with me the previous session, “What do you say when you meet my friends?” We have been formally introduced and are now expected to get along. Today, it’s Partners In Crime. Tomorrow, it’s gonna be a girlfriend.
Rockstar does bring one or two girls over, “She wears either the white shoes, or the Little Miss Chatterbox shoes. If her mum is bringing her, it’s the Little Miss Chatterbox shoes.” One girl shows me a hairband while her friend tells how she picked it up in Korea. Rockstar will later tell me he’s had two hugs from her when her mum comes.
Speaking of friends… Rockstar’s been checking out which of his friends are going to the same catchment area primary school since his two best buddies apparently explained to him they live too far away to be in the same catchment area. So I promised to call their mums if he misses them at the new school.
The Rockstar solemnly watched me filling in his acceptance form, read the cheque Kings wrote (as in, See Now, it’s your parents’ turn to have “homework,” because you’ve gotten yourself accepted into the Primary School – Congrats!), and then we’d gone down together to hand the papers in. (I thought it would later help transition him to the new school, which will happen shortly after the baby arrives – which he well knows. We have struck an agreement – he gets more attention when school starts (we’re hiring a nanny for the baby in the first few months), and then his understanding is school will be for longer hours than he currently attends, so Mum is supposed “keep (my)self busy” a.k.a. Get A Life by taking care of the baby, while he’s in school.)
Dropping the forms off that day, we happened to hit break time, and in the short walk between front gate and reception desk, 3 little girls (each substantially larger than Rockstar, of course) dance up to us hand in hand. “<indicating Rockstar’s Kindy uniform> I used to go to that school, why’s he here?” Not unkindly, more out of curiosity as their eyes flick over my outfit. My scarf happened to be Hermes (well I have to throw myself a bone here, it’s not like I have a lot of style options when I’m fast approaching the size of a minivan – last pregnancy I was buying jewelry); I had also come to realize my sparkly Miu Miu “laptop bag” might be useful when we’re trying to make friends on the playground, it continues to attract little girls… And… It… occurred to me I had better look for volunteering opportunities when Rockstar starts his new school too…
An image of Shia Labeouf’s screen mum in one of the Transformers movies flashes through my mind. She’s visiting him at his new college, gets high and goes, “Oh! Pretty girls. MY SON’S (DORM) ROOM IS RIGHT THE-ERE!!”
It was an accident. She smoked pot by accident. That could happen to anyone, right?
Anyway. To my amazement, almost obligingly, his two closest buddies take a turn at the table I’m at, before declaring they’ve finished and running off elsewhere. I glance at their hurriedly done writing exercise before they pick it up and cram it in their bags (it’s free-play, not serious learning or small groups time (which, if I understand correctly from Rockstar is when they do crafts or writing exercises for real), they can color the flower/ plant diagram, write the parts in based on charts placed around the tables to assist or simply go run around the playground – another little girl is drawing her older sister next to the plant diagram). Stem, Roots, Petals, Leaves – Filament. One of Rockstar’s Partners In Crime has filled in “filament,” having seen it on the diagram in the brief few minutes they’re all giving the plants in their diagrams blue roots because they’ve collectively decided blue is their favorite color of the hour.
The other kids explain to me roots belong in the ground (not where I’ve theatrically stuck them up in the air) where they can suck up water and nutrients, and then we come up with a plausible explanation for why leaves and flowers have to be out in the open, not in the ground like the roots. We can do a little better than Rockstar’s, “Because they’ll die! Buahaha <evil laughter>” I notice none of the little girls around us think that’s funny. This is like when Kings doesn’t understand why I don’t find his jokes funny.
There’s going to come a time when Rockstar is probably gonna make me promise not to come anywhere near his school. Til then, I’m gonna enjoy myself.
Rockstar And Friend On Playdate (JD was running around them too)
I must go and look up the word sepal. Although it is just for writing practice, I wonder whether they will remember those big words and be able to amaze adults with their impressive plant vocab.
I think it’s the little green bit joining the stem and the flower.. Rockstar had that one, but not filament 😛 Well at least one of his partners in crime is going to impress his parents… 🙂