Why am I making a big deal out of this? I really don't know. It's absurd. Sixth grade. No big deal. I think what's getting me is him going from the elementary school to the middle school. Changing buildings. I grew up in this town, and I know full well what house of horrors that middle school can be. So I'm in that wonderful, fretful mom state of hoping he doesn't get bullied like I was, and he doesn't get cool enough to become part of the drug problem there.
And this is a small town!
Maybe I'm talking to the wrong people, but when I have several other parents give me dire warnings about the horrible drug problem at a school, it does give one pause.
So I'm in the boat that many parents my age are sailing in: giving high school and college aged advice to an 11-year old. "Don't take anything you didn't open yourself." The locker room advice I'm saving for my husband. But I am also trying to remain calm in front of my son, and not tell him everything about my childhood. This is his childhood, his own experiences and lessons. And this summer has not been very childlike for him. He opted to join my husband at work this summer, rather than go to a kid's camp. Today, the day before school, I took off work so we could get his school things in order, cuddle, and spend some time together.
Then, I kicked him out of the house. Ride your bike! Find some other kids to play with! Over his protests, I banished him from the house, not to return for at least two hours.
He broke that rule in the first half hour. He needed something to hold the snake he and his friends caught.
Life is good.