Kindergarten Crush

The day was finally here.  Not only was it Valentine's Day but it was also field trip day.  Dinosaurs and elephants and whales and mummies awaited us at the museum.  Mrs. Lee's Kindergarten class was like a bee hive, abuzz with excitement.  Every activity had been planned down to the minute, we had been told.  Instructions to get a good night's sleep and to eat a warm breakfast had been given as we left school the day before.

My school was just one block away so Mom walked me every day.  It took a long time to get ready to leave the house, especially on a February morning.  I put on my sweater, coat, mittens, hat, earmuffs, scarf, and boots.  By the time I was in full gear it felt like I was standing on the Sun.  Stepping outside was a relief but it only took a minute before I felt like I was in the North Pole instead.  On that day I didn't care so much about the weather.  I was more concerned with Valentines, planets, and fossils.

I could tell that Mrs. Lee was nervous.  There was a lot to be done before we could load the school bus for our trip.  We sang a few songs, made heart-shaped Valentines for our parents out of paper doilies and red construction paper, and ate paste -- I mean, glued it all together with paste.

Lunch was a 10:30 in the morning.  How could that be?  My cereal was still floating around in my stomach.  Besides, my stomach was in excited knots.  It didn't matter.  We had to eat.  It said so on the schedule and that was that.

So, we ate.  The aromas of tuna, egg salad, and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches were much more noticeable in our small classroom than they were in the cafeteria.  We ate at our seats; not sitting next to our best friends, but next to boys who thought it was hilarious to show us the half-chewed food in their mouths.  The room felt warm as the radiator blasted out hot air and the sun shone through the dirty windows.  Undigested cereal mixed with ham and cheese and room temperature milk.  This day was quickly losing its appeal and there was still a bus ride ahead.

I was glad to hear the teacher announce that lunch was over.  We were to put away our lunch boxes and take out our Valentine's Day cards.  Like five-year-old mailmen, we went from desk to desk, slipping our cards into the slots on top of the shoeboxes we had uniquely decorated for this special occasion. 

My heart nearly pounded out of my chest as I approached Billy B.'s desk.  Billy R. was nice, but nowhere near as cute or smart as Billy B.  There he was with his black slacks, red plaid shirt, and clip-on tie with hearts on it.  His church shoes, which he only wore to school on special days, were shiny and clean. His hair was neatly combed as usual, except for those few little hairs that stood straight up as they came out of the swirl on the top of his head.

Everything was in slow-motion.  He stood up as he saw me near his desk and I dreamed that he would say hello instead of asking Davie for a cootie shot.  I wasn't holding my breath, though.  Only two more steps and I would be delivering my card to him.

Wait, what is that noise?  Looking at my classmates, it appeared that no one else had noticed the pounding in my head and stomping in my stomach.  The cereal and ham sandwich were having a fight.  Only one could win.  "Stop you guys!" I thought to myself.  But they wouldn't.

My hand was over Billy B.'s box now.  If I could just deliver my card quickly, he would be my Valentine.  I was sure the moon rock at the museum would be happy to hear my great news.

As the card slipped out of my hand and through the slot, it happened.  I couldn't do a thing to stop it.  There it was, all over Billy B. and his desk.  His nicely ironed clothes and tie were destroyed.  His hair would never be the same again.  The pounding in my head stopped and the stomping in my stomach was gone.  The cereal had won and the ham sandwich had been vanquished.

"Eeeeeews" filled the room as the teacher called the janitor.  Billy B. was whisked away.

Minutes later the class lined up and walked out to the school bus.  The boys wanted to sit in the back and the girls in the front.  By the sound of it, the ride to the museum was going to be a noisy one.   The bus driver knew he didn't have a chance against thirty kids so he just put his earmuffs on and closed his eyes as he waited for the signal to drive. 

Suddenly, the talking and laughing stopped and everyone turned their attention to the front of the bus.  There was Billy B. dressed in pants that were too short and a shirt that was too big.  His church shoes had been replaced by two different sneakers because that's all they had in the office.  His hair was sticking straight up, even the swirl had disappeared. 

I noticed he was walking toward me.  I pulled my wool hat over my face and cringed at the thought of what he would say, imagining that they wouldn't be the nicest words I had ever heard.  I would understand if he wanted that cootie shot now. 

He stepped up next to me.  I could hear him breathing.  A tap on my shoulder surprised me and I came out from under my hat. 

He handed me an envelope.  "Happy Valentine's Day," he said.  "Are you feeling better?"

"Um, yeah," I replied.  "Sorry about your clothes."

He sat down next to me as the bus drove away from school.  "That's okay, I hated those clothes anyway," he said.

 

Happy Valentine's Day kiddos!  Until next time... stay cool!

Martha

Copyright 2013 Martha Rodriguez

 

He's My Baby Brother!

My little brother was born today.  He woke Mommy up at three o’clock in the morning because he wanted to come out of her tummy.  I was asleep so I didn’t know he was going to be born today.  When I woke up, Grandma said, “Good morning,” and told me I was a big brother.  She made my favorite breakfast, yummy waffles with syrup and chocolate milk.  How did she know that was my favorite?

I’m excited to meet Danny.  That’s his name.  Well, his name is really Daniel but we’re going to call him Danny because Daniel is a big name for a baby.  That’s what Mom says. 

After breakfast, I run upstairs with Grandma so I can get dressed.  It’s really cold outside and there’s a lot of snow on the ground.  When I squish my face on the window, my nose gets really cold and I have to rub it to make it warm again. 

I can get dressed by myself because I’m almost three and a half years old.  I like my soft pants.  Dad says they are called sweat pants but I like to call them soft pants because they are really, really soft.  They are warm, too.  Grandma says I have to put on a t-shirt, then my sweatshirt so my belly button won’t get cold.  I can tie my own shoes but she says she wants to help.  She makes perfect bows and always makes double knots.  I love my grandma.

We’re ready to go visit Mom and Danny in the hospital but we have to wait for Dad to pick us up.  It’s so hard to wait.  I play with my cars for a little while and then I hear Dad’s car outside.  I get on my tippy toes so I can look out the window.  “Grandma, dad’s here!” I yell.

I say, “Hi, Dad!”  He says, “Hi big brother.”  That’s funny.  I ask Dad if we can go see Mom and Danny now.  He says, “Yes.”  I jump up in the air and yell, "YES!" 

It’s still cold outside so I have to put on my coat and my hat and my gloves.  Now I can’t really move that much and it’s getting hot in here.   We get in the car and drive to the hospital.  It takes a long time to get there.  I like watching the snow plows making snow mountains.  I see a snowman and some kids playing in a snow fort. 

We get to the hospital and Dad tries to find a parking space.  Grandma is looking one way and Dad is looking the other way.  Grandma points to her side. “There’s one!” she says.  Dad parks the car and we get out.  We walk into the hospital.  There are a lot of grown-ups inside.  There’s a lady at the desk.  She asks us who we are here to visit.  I yell out, “Mom and Danny!”  She laughs and asks me who Danny is.  I tell her he’s my baby brother.  She gives us stickers that say we are allowed to go on the elevator. 

Dad lets me push the button on the elevator and we start going up to the sixth floor.  When the doors open, I see nurses holding babies.  “Is that Danny?” I ask Dad.  “No,” he says.  “How about that one?” I ask.  He says no again.  “Where is he, Dad?”  Dad tells me that Danny is in the room with Mom.  He tells me the room number is 613.  I look at all the numbers on the doors.  610, 611, 612… 613!  This is the room!  The door is closed.  It’s big and heavy so Dad helps me push it open.  The room has two beds.  Mom and Danny are in the first bed. I run over to hug Mom and give her a kiss.  Then I see my baby brother.

"He’s so little, Mom," I say.  "Look, his nails are tiny next to mine.  Can I give him a kiss?  Is he asleep?  Is he going to open his eyes?  How come he makes all those little noises?  Can I hold him, Mom?  Please!  Why is he crying?  Is he hungry?  Was I this little when I was born?"

Danny is cute.  His skin is soft and white.  He has black hair.  He doesn’t open his eyes a lot.  He’s very wiggly.  He doesn’t have any teeth.  His lips are really pink.  His toes and his nose are really small.  He cries a little.  He sleeps a lot.  When I put my finger close to his hand, he grabs it really hard.  He peed in the air when Dad changed his diaper.  It was so funny! 

Mom lets me sit on the bed and hold Danny.  He’s warm and he smells like baby soap.  He opens his eyes and looks at me.  He yawns and closes his eyes.  I give him a little kiss on his head.  “Hi, Danny,” I whisper to him.  “You're going to love yummy waffles with syrup and chocolate milk.”

Copyright 2011 Martha Rodriguez

Happy Birthday, Danny!  We love you more than you will ever know!

Walking and Writing: One Hundred Steps at a Time

I spent a few minutes on-line this morning trying to find out how many steps the average person takes in a day.  I knew it was a big mistake the minute I typed the words into the search bar, but I thought it would be a fun fact to know.  Well, I was right: it was a big mistake.  How can anyone really know?  Who goes around counting their steps and posting the number on the internet, anyway?  No one, but  that doesn’t stop people from giving their opinion so, aside from finding out that it’s anywhere from zero to infinity, I found quite a few sites that told me how many steps I “should” take if I want to be healthy.  That was not my question!  I love you internet, but sometimes I wonder why I even invite you into my home!

You’re probably wondering what all this silliness is about… assuming you’ve gotten this far.  Well, it’s about my latest writing project, a children’s book of short stories about the details we often miss as we take our few or many steps throughout the day.  Each story is about taking one hundred steps.  Where will they take me?  What will I see, hear, or smell?  Will I be surprised or bored?  Will I meet people and their look-alike pets?  Will a beat-up, old-fashioned car bring back memories from my childhood?  I hope to share the answers to all these questions soon.  In the meantime, here is a sneak peek at part of the first story.  I hope you enjoy it. 

The First One Hundred Steps

I’m standing in the hallway just outside the front door to my apartment on the nineteenth floor.  My back is against the door.  It’s chilly in the hallway but warm right where I’m standing because the hot Hawaiian sun is streaming in through the window opposite my door.  I haven’t taken the first step in my silly experiment yet but I will in the next few seconds.  Standing here I can see a small portion of Koko Head, a tuff cone made of volcanic ash, in the distance and many buildings between Koko Head and mine.  It’s a sunny day but there are a few puffy, white clouds in the sky.  I can tell it’s windy because the palm trees are swaying softly back and forth.  I’m anxious to see what else is waiting for me outside as I start my one-hundred-step walk.  Will I even make it outside the building?  What will I see?  Will it be super exciting or super boring? I guess I’ll never know if I don’t take that first step.  Here goes!

Wait!  I don’t want to waste too many steps just to get on the elevator.  I should plan a strategy.  There’s no one else in the hallway so I can be as silly as I like.  Well, even if there was someone in the hallway, I’d probably be silly anyway.  I’m going to take giant steps until I get to the elevator button.  One… two… three!  Not bad, only three steps.  I push the “down” button and wait.  I’m not moving a muscle.  Don’t want to use up anymore steps. 

I realize I may have a slight problem.  There are three elevator doors in the hallway.  I’m standing between the two closest to my apartment.  The “down” button is between these two doors.  I’m close enough to both of them that it will probably only take me one or two steps to get inside either of the elevators when one arrives.  But there’s a third elevator, further down the hallway.  If that’s the elevator that comes first, I’m going to have to waste a few extra steps or wait for the next one.  I cross my fingers and wait.  Five seconds go by before I hear a familiar dinging sound, like a doorbell.  It’s just the elevator telling me it’s on the way.  I still don’t know which one it will be but it sounds like it will be the second one.  Suddenly, the door to the second elevator begins to open.  Nice!  Only one giant step will get me inside.

Problem!  There’s a video camera inside the elevator.  If someone at the front desk in the lobby is watching the computer screen, they will see me taking that giant step.  They’ll probably wonder if I’m crazy.  It won't be the first time someone has thought that.  I can’t worry about it right now because I have to save my steps.  I take a big step, my fourth one, as the automated lady’s voice says, “Going down.”  My body is just inside the elevator door.  If I’m too close to the door, it won’t close so I tuck my behind in, just in case.  Success!  The door closes.  I’m standing right beside the panel of buttons, from “L,” for Lobby, to 39.  I won’t need to take any extra steps to choose.  I press the “L” button and wait to start moving down. 

The elevator is on the outside of the building and has a big window through which I can see the same things I saw from the window in the hallway.  My stomach feels a little funny as the elevator begins to go down all nineteen floors.  I lift my left foot off the ground a little and pivot my body around on my right foot as we get closer to the lobby.  Now, I’m facing the door.  It's very shiny, like a mirror, and I can see myself in it.  I can also see the reflection of what’s outside the window.   The palm trees are still swaying.  I can’t hear it yet, but I know they are making a beautiful, peaceful sound.  I’ve heard it many times. 

As the elevator door opens onto the open-air lobby, and the automated lady’s voice says, “Lobby,” I finally hear the “Shhhhhhhh, shaaaaaaaa, shhhhhhhh, shaaaaaaaa,” as the wind blows the palm fronds from side to side and tosses my hair all around my face.  Step number five takes me out of the elevator where another camera is looking at me.  By the time I reach the front desk and greet the men working there, I’m on step number twenty-five.

I pretend that I hadn’t taken a giant step when getting on the elevator and cross my fingers that the men hadn't seen me on their computer screen.  The nice men say, “Hello,” and ask how I am.  “Fine, thank you.  How are you?” I reply.  Turns out they are fine, too.  That’s nice.  They are smiling big side-to-side smiles.  I think they saw my giant step.  I don’t mind.  This is fun.

The lobby is beautiful.  Some of the walls have pretty wood panels on them and the floor is made of tiles; some big and some small but all shiny and sparkling clean.  The furniture is comfortable.  I need to remember to come down and sit here more often, but today I’m on a one-hundred-step walking mission.  I can’t stop now.  I say goodbye to the men at the desk and walk toward the twelve-foot-tall doorway that leads to the outside of the building.  The doors are made of iron.  They are black.  No, they are green.  Actually, they are both.  They look very heavy but they aren’t.  They make a soft, creaking sound when I push them open to step outside the building with my forty-fifth step.

I could hear them before I could see them; the construction workers and their trucks fixing the road just to the left of my building.  This is usually a quiet street.  I often sit on a bench here to listen to the birds chirping, smell the lovely aroma of the Plumeria flowers, and people-watch as folks go walking by.  Today the sounds, smells and sights are different.  The street has a big hole in it and there are men here to fill it, like a dentist fills a cavity or a scab forms over a cut.


There’s more to the story and I look forward to sharing it soon.  Oh, and to answer my own question, “Who goes around counting their steps and posting the number on the internet, anyway?”  I do, and it’s great fun!  I hope you’ll read this sneak peek to your children and students and encourage them to observe the world around them and to write in detail about their one hundred steps.

Until next time… stay cool!

Martha

The First One Hundred Steps
Copyright 2011 Martha Rodriguez