Thursday, September 01, 2011
When I woke up that first morning and stumbled into the kitchen to make coffee, K was already up, fully dressed and sitting at the kitchen table tapping his toes. "Hi mom, I made coffee," he said.
I stumbled out his bedroom as bleary-eyed as I was. "K woke me up at 5 a.m.," he said.
I knew K was excited. He and I had spent much of the previous week chittering about which classes he had waitlisted, which classes he really hoped he'd be added to, whether he chose the right major, whether he'd know anyone in his classes. He'd become frenetic by the last evening and I hoped his first day would release some of that energy. I was wrong: He came home with even more energy and tales from his day.
By contrast, I's response to his first day was, "It was cool."
K spent the afternoon and evening working out math problems for his first assignment of the semester. He struggled with one problem until I made him quit and have dinner with the family. After dinner, he went back to work.
On Day 2, K stumbled out of his room about the same time I did. We fought for shower rights (I won of course). K spent his afternoon free of classes and working on his math homework. That afternoon I got a call at work.
K: I'm going to fail!
Me: What are you talking about?
K: I can't figure this math stuff out! I'm going to fail! I should just quit! You need to get your money back.
Me: Knock it off. Skip the question that's giving you trouble and do another one.
K: But I'm going to fail!
Me: Have you been working on that one problem all day?
K: Yes. And last night too.
Me: Stop crying! I command you to stop doing your homework and go watch TV!
There was radio silence from K for about two hours, and later that afternoon he sent me a text that read: "I figured it out!"
I sighed and smiled. Until I remembered that I had forgotten to send in the check for his registration fees.
No worries. All's well now.