He Loves It. A Lot.

Well, my little man started kindergarten. And I was surprisingly not-at-all sad because it was such a happy time. Seriously. Not even a hint of a tear. I think it was because he was SO STINKIN’ EXCITED that there was just no way to be anything other than thrilled to pieces about the whole big school adventure.

The back-to-school breakfast? Grits, of course. And a few minutes of Star Wars. Because OH MY SWEET MERCY the Star Wars obsession around here is somewhere around mach-five-Death-Star-Obi-Wan-warp-speed-squared levels.

(No sense I make.)

(Eluded me always science-fiction has.)

Anyway.

The first day marked the return to tennis shoes after a summer of Crocs and flip-flops. The little man was so happy to see a pair of REAL LIVE SOCKS when he was getting dressed that you would’ve sworn they were long-lost friends. Which I guess they sort of were. Since he hasn’t worn socks since May and all.

A. adores his teacher, who, by all accounts, is the Mary Poppins of the kindergarten set. I also adore her because she has more of a Southern accent than I do, and that is NO SMALL FEAT, my friends.

After the first chock-full-o-fun-day-o-school, we went to lunch with my sweet friend NK and her girls. We did this last year after the first day of preschool, and we decided to make it an annual tradition. The kids had a great time comparing notes on their kindergarten classes, and then they enjoyed a lively game of hide and seek on the restaurant’s patio.

Yes. You read that correctly. I ate a meal in the out of doors. In Alabama. In August. And somehow lived to tell the tale.

So, to recap: my child started kindergarten and I did not cry. Then we went to lunch and I ate outside. Either I’m in the midst of a profound hormonal imbalance or I experienced two miracles within six hours of each other.

It’s probably that first thing.

But even still. It was a really great day.