Yesterday, our youngest son had a rough day at school, and my wife and I are to blame. It was his second day of preschool. He is five, a July birthday, and one of the oldest in his class.
Day one, he was excited to return. He was excited to see his friends from last year. He spoke the names and memories of many he expected to see again. Of these, he discovered many were not there.
He wondered where they were, and it was only at dinnertime that night, when we told him, that many of his friends from last year were now in Kindergarten. As adults, rather than leaving a condition alone, we attempted to rationalize a reason for why it should be: why his friends should be there and he still in preschool. We did not use age and the random date divider that decides who goes on, and who remains behind another year. No, we sought another metrics believing it to be simpler for him to understand.
He listened.
We told him, before he could go to Kindergarten, that he would have to know all of his ABCs. He listened close to our explanation of why his friends had moved on while he remained another year in preschool, and he did what even we as adults do so often: mistake well-meaning, but in-truth, irrelevant information as solution to a perceived trouble. We, and the world, mislead by our omissions.
He wanted to go to Kindergarten. He wanted to see his friends, and the next morning, he snuck a book from his room, with the ABCs, into his backpack to prove unequivocally to his teacher that his ABCs were known and he was ready for Kindergarten and to be reunited with his friends.
He showed his teacher the book, and as best as a third party may interpolate, did his best to affirm proficiency in his ABCs. When finished, he waited with the hope and optimism of a youthful heart yet to be hurt for the affirmation and consensus that would return him to his friends.
It did not come, and he was inconsolable for the day.
When I came home last night, I did not see this on his face. He was returned to the wild five-year old I know. I learned only of these events at the kitchen table, after all the kids were down, and my wife and I spoke to catch up and be on the same life page.
This morning, he is all smiles and energy with no indicator of worry for his woes the day before. This is another trait of a youthful heart, to accept and move beyond conditions that may hurt in a moment then return swiftly to an energy that embraces life—its wonders and enjoyment—in a world that gifts newness every day.