You might have been expecting a back-to-school confessional. But, I'm not going to do it. Not for the reasons you might expect.
For starters, I have few pictures of Cooper marching off to school. He made it clear he would have none of that. Too cool, I suppose.
Also, there was no crying. None.
I suppose I should have felt a little melancholy. But I just couldn't. Cooper's excitement was not just dripping but shooting off him in little buds and stars of intoxication. School! He loved the first day.
He was all things I could have hoped for. Ready on time. Rested. Eager. Curious. Supplied. Well-dressed and ironed. (Yes, I used an iron.) His teacher even later confided in me that he was clearly prepared, if not the MOST prepared.
But then there was the second day of school. He'd already found out what that was all about, so he wasn't as enthusiastic. He hid behind my legs and jumped to the back of the queue to go into school so many times that eventually he was the very last student standing in the playground.
And then you know what happened? The school district decided he should go to the school that is right by our house. (Novel idea I had been pointing out to them all summer.) So we had the first day of school all over, again. But you won't be seeing any pictures of that either.