For my journal:
Tomorrow is Duncan’s first day of kindergarten. He turned 5 1/2 years old last week. He is not nearly as emotively expressive as his older sister, but I think he’s quietly excited. Not that he’s quiet–this is hard to explain. I was trying to mark the occasion and make it special. We had pie and said several rounds of “hip-hip-hooray for Duncan’s first day!” He was very loud. When I say he’s quiet about it, I mean that he doesn’t talk about how he feels about kindergarten much. People ask him if he’s excited and he says, “yeah” with a little smile and then turns away from them.

Duncan and Amelia, August 2009
In preparation for the grand day tomorrow he picked out a green sweater he feels handsome in and asked me about soccer: “Amy [the pet name Amelia insists he and no one else call her] says that all the boys at my school play soccer. Do you think that’s true?” [I don't think Amelia was trying to make him feel negatively about his school; she thought her observation might help him to keep playing soccer].
[And then, because he doesn't like soccer:] “Mom, do they have any trees in the yard at my school?” “Yes, Duncan, they do,” I said. “Do you think a boy can ever just sit under a tree?”
With no prior prodding or interrogation on my part, Duncan told me today what he wants to be when he grows up. He told me he had four ideas, but he could only remember three of them: 1)Train Engineer, 2) Artist, 3) or a Person Who Makes Cool Stuff.
Meanwhile, Amelia has already started at her new school. So far, she seems to love it. Her 5th grade teacher is “her favorite so far.” The homework load at this school is a bit terrifying for the parent of a daughter who will allow any task to expand to fill all available time (plus more), but five days into it, Amelia herself seems to be enjoying the challenge. I hope that will remain true in the months ahead.
Pdad gave her the standard “a new school offers the chance to be a new person” spiel. I was a little hesitant because I didn’t want her to think we weren’t happy with the person she was before. But his spiel was aimed squarely at her stalwart dress-wearing ways. Amelia has consistently worn dresses daily [except under duress] since the beginning of first grade. She gets quite a bit of attention for that from her peers, as you might imagine. Since she reacted with disdain to the idea of buying some pants for school, I figured she had chosen to travel the same path as before: soft cotton one-piece dresses with no buttons or zippers, difficult fasteners, or offensive textures of any kind. It’s not so terrible! If her clothing choices make her odd, they also make her modest, feminine, and age-appropriate. How much can a parent complain under such circumstances?
But look what I saw when I asked her to lay out her clothes for the first week of school:

Change–”Ready or not, here we come!”