Jonas is like a box of chocolates...

When this kid first went to school, he was over the moon excited. I was a ball of nerves. Would he be nervous not knowing anyone? Would he cry when I left him? Would he make friends? Would he follow the teacher's directions? He was bouncing up and down the whole ride to preschool. When I pulled up to the curb, he was out of his seat belt and opening the door when he abruptly froze. It had just dawned on him that I had turned off the ignition. And I was opening MY door. He turned and looked at me with eyes the size of golf balls and said in a completely appalled tone of voice,
"You aren't coming in with me, are you?"
After I swept up the shattered pieces of my heart I replied,
"Well, yes I am because your teacher is going to talk to the parents for a little bit."
He looked down, defeated. He though for a minute, sighed and then said,
"OK. But just don't sit by me."
Ouch.
It was from that point on that I knew I was never going to have that school moment with this particular child where I hug him and tell him I love him and to have a good day. Then he gives me a little kiss and squeezes me back and says goodbye. I accepted it.
But once last year, when dropping him off, I temporarily lost my sanity. He was out on the curb and he looked so grown up and cute I called out,
"LOVE YOU, JONAS!!"
That was the first time I saw a look of pure horror on my child's face. He recovered quickly, acting as if he didn't know the crazy lady in her pajamas in that minivan he just climbed out of, and ran to line up. I learned my lesson. He is just not that into me. Well he is, but just not publicly.
But today, as I was dropping off the carpool, something monumental happened. There we were; the door wide open kids in ear shot... lots of them. And he said,
"Love you, mom. Have a good day." And he leaned over the seat and kissed me on the cheek. IN PUBLIC. In front of his peers. I was barely able to reply "I love you, too" because I was in shock. What brought it on? I have no earthly idea. But it doesn't matter. I drove home feeling like that mother of the year award was in the bag. my bag.