I woke up at 5:22AM and laid awake worrying about what could go wrong on Dee Dee’s first day of second grade until I heard stirring upstairs at about 7:30AM.  It was a difficult two hours, but I was rewarded for my efforts with the day going just fine! 

If you’re curious, here’s how it went. 

Mom made the girls some eggs and sausage balls in the microwave.  Dee Dee didn’t use any of her substantial helping of chili sauce.  But she did replenish the ketchup puddle on her plate generously and often during breakfast.  I washed her plate last as I wondered what I might like to dip in the chili sauce and eat.  But, for the sake of time and because I couldn’t find anything good to eat with the chili sauce, I rinsed it down the drain.  Mom put a braid in Dee Dee’s hair and after the girls were dressed, we still had time to start the third season of Bluey. 

We took a couple pictures of Dee Dee and then of both girls together outside with the good camera before we walked to school.  The walk went by fast.  I recall thinking that whatever I was saying to Dee Dee was the most important thing in the world for her to hear.  And, that she needed to hear it right then.  But I can’t actually remember what I said.  I think and hope that whatever it was fell nicely between, “The first days of the school year set the tone for how the rest of the year goes, so don’t do anything stupid.”  And, “Be yourself.  Be the hell out of yourself!”  In reality, I’m sure that Dee Dee had no clue what I was trying to get across to her.  And, that’s probably good.  As I’ve told her, “It doesn‘t matter what I tell you.  You’ll have to figure things out for yourself.”  I usually tell her that right before giving her some unsolicited, fatherly advice. 

We didn’t have a long wait, once we were at the school. I gave Dee Dee one last once-over and tried to talk with her over the hideous, shrill shouting of juvenile delinquents.  The hoodlums’ shrieking and cawing drown out the sound of the bell.  We only knew it was 9:00AM because the principal exited the front door of the school to address the rabid crowd.  From where we were, a great distance away from the door, surrounded by leagues of wailing youth, we weren’t able to hear the big boss.  She stood in the doorway and stopped all but the smallest, slipperiest children from sliding through and around her.  In defeat, she stepped aside leaving the gate unguarded.  Quickly, my wife rescued Audio off the ground and I said goodbye to Dee Dee as she was swept away by the small bodies that were being drawn together from each side and from behind us, being sucked toward the opening, entering as one liquidy unit.  I don’t remember hearing any sound.  I lost track of the principal. Soon, I couldn’t see Dee Dee anymore.  She was inside, somewhere.  So, we left. 

When I picked up Dee Dee at the end of the day, there didn’t seem to be much of a plan in place.  One teacher used her walkie-talkie a couple of times to announce that they should send out Dee Dee.  After she would transmit her message, there would be loud and wonderfully insane sounding radio noise and feedback flutter that I secretly enjoyed.  Eventually, she changed the channel and repeated that Dee Dee should be sent out.  Being on the right channel did the trick. 

I did my best to ask Dee Dee how her day went, and in every way I could think of.  But she just answered every question by saying that the day went fine, but did so in unusually short, simple, often unfinished sentences.  I asked for details about things that happened during the day.  She responded with some information about her day in a casual fashion that made it clear that while I was wound up about it, her first day back to school was business as usual. 

Oh, on the walk back from dropping off Dee Dee in the morning, Audio fell while running in the alley.  That was bad.  But after cleaning her up, she forgot about it.