Get What You're Ode

I just wanted to drop you a note and let you know I appreciate you. I was forming this in my head yesterday as I was enrolling our daughter into Kindergarten. Five. Can you believe?

Well, there we were going through the motions. We had walked over from the house, her in the pink rain coat, me holding the papers you had laid out for me, dumbly. Escorted from room to room, smiling faces, little stupid kids. People talking to our daughter like she was from a different country, her looking at me silently asking if she has to speak to these people. My disdain, not hers. She's, of course, happy to speak to anyone.

Filling out paper work with a stubby pencil. Them asking her if she wants to color, be read to, learn CPR. Them telling me the importance of reading to children. Them asking if I'm interested in Girl Scouts.

Them smiling. Me smiling. Her smiling.

Pulling out my wallet to record insurance information, knees crammed under a desk, sitting close to other adults. I don't stand this close to people on elevators and now I'm writing my last name over and over while touching someone's knees like I'm going to buy them.

But I had everything we needed. Because you laid it out for me. That's not entirely accurate, nor does it capture everything I wanted to say.

I had everything we needed because our daughter has never missed an appointment of any kind in her life. The nurse looks over her immunization records, makes a small impressed face and says "You're all done" for the first time that day.

I know I sigh and roll my eyes and harrumph, but I secretly think it's cool that you can roll off our daughter's stats the way I roll attributes on Sundays.

These people are asking our daughter what color Yellow is and I'm thinking...come on now. Actually what I'm thinking is a little more profane.

Them smiling. Me smiling. Her smiling. Are we in a catalogue?

They're asking her if she's excited about Kindergarten and her response is something like an art critic trying to be nice at the local scene.

Ok, so really she's just being a pleasant little girl and saying, "Yes!" so forgive me for adding my own flourish.

I'm very proud of our little girl and she wouldn't be half so cool without you. Thank you for taking such good care of her, of us. If it had all been left to me I'm sure we'd be a sorry sight. Sure, she'd know the original X-Men roster, but she probably couldn't thank people in French or be guarded against polio. That's something people get a shot for still, right?

It's very telling that, sure, Daddy's fun to make up dinosaur names with, but if something's wrong, she wants Mommy.

Well. Just wanted to tell you you're awesome. And it's rubbing off on our daughter.

That, and all the crazy.