Vashawn

There is a boy in my son's kindergarten class named Vashawn - at least I think that is his name.  When I said it back to my little boy the first day he mentioned him, he waved his hands at me and said, "no, no, no.  Repeat after me.  Va..."

"Va...

"sh.."

"sh..."

"awn."

"awn."

I repeated as earnestly and carefully as I could.  But all I got for my sincere efforts was another, "no, no, no."  We went through the routine three or four times with me getting gigglier as we went.  Which is one of my happier ways of showing hopelessness and frustration.  May I never again force a child to pronounce a word correctly.  By the time my boy was done with me, I hoped I'd never hear mention of Vashawn again.

But today I was glad I did.  One of my son's post-candy-gorge confessions last night before bed was that some kids teased him because he can't do everything.

"What can't you do?"  Ms. Fix-it asked.

"Everything," he devastatingly replied.  I was able to figure that everything included not being able to open wrappers on candy and fruit snacks and not being able to color in the lines - he's a scribble-scrabbler in kindergarten speak.  Fine motor skills really aren't his forte - doggone those genetics.  I told him that I loved him, that I was proud of him for working hard at school, and to not mind what those kids said.

And then I sent him off and worried about what I should have said, imagining a desolate, horrible, tortuous school career ahead of him.

When he got off the bus today I was prepared for a melancholy boy.  But he ran to me and said, "Today was my lucky day."  First he showed me a plastic bat he got to pick from the treasure box for good kids and then he told me about what Vashawn did.  When they were coloring in class a boy named Antonio leaned over and said, "Hey you're scribble-scrabbling."  And then Vashawn swooped to the rescue and said, "He's working hard and doing a good job."  As he retold the story, my boy glowed at the compliment.  Vashawn single-handedly defeated my mothering inadequacies.

Thank you parents of Vashawn.  You may have given him a name I can't say, but I forgive you because, and only because, you made him an awfully good boy.  Thank you.  Thank you.