Izzy has decided he hates school.
Two days a week I drop Izzy off kicking and screaming. He cries. Miss K, the teacher has to peel the child off of my legs.
It's such a pleasant experience.
Two days a week I wait for a phone call. I sit at home on pins and needles or I have my ringer turned on to "excruciatingly loud and annoying to anyone around me" on my cell phone just waiting for Miss K to call. At Izzy's preschool, if they continue to cry for their parents, they will call the parent to come pick up the child.
I have never had a call.
When I pick up Izzy, he is all smiles. He runs up to me with a big grin on his face and hugs me exclaiming, "I had a fun day!" Then by the time we walk from the Preschool to our home (a whole block), Izzy has proclaimed that I am a bad Mom. "Why do you leave me there?" he asks.
"I missed you Mom and I cried. Why won't you stay with me?" and "I'm still a baby Mom. You aren't supposed to leave me. I am still small. I'm not three you know. I'm only one."
When I talk with the teacher (and another parent who spies on Izzy after I leave) it's always the same response...."Oh, he had such a great day! As soon as you walked out the door, Izzy dried his tears and engaged with the class."
It sounds like a classic case of playing the Mom card. He knows what works and is not going to go down without a fight.
Thursday, Izzy was in such a surly mood that I offered he pick out his clothes to wear to school. Sometimes that will distract his funk and enable him show his enthusiasm. I kid you not...this is what he picked out.
Notice not only the grumpy expression and skull DJ shirt....but check out his wrist.
A rebel indeed.