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The Crooked Cap

Posted on: June 21st, 2012 by bubbyjoysandoys 2 Comments

Enjoyed this? Share it, and attribute it. Copyright 2014, Bubby Joys and Oys, M. Hendeles

My grandson graduated from nursery school yesterday.

When I got to the backyard where the “event” (sounds a bit formal for 4 year olds – doesn’t it?) was being held, I took a seat in the front row – next to his mom.  As soon as the kids came marching into place on the stage (with their teacher leading them in song),  I searched for my grandson among the group, and zeroed right in to watch him in his debut.

I turned to my daughter-in-law and whispered, “Why is his hat crooked?”

She said, “Ma, he’s FOUR.”

True. He’s four. I’m fifty two. And I’m worrying about his slanted sailor cap on his head.

I then realized how utterly and ridiculously competitive I am. And if I don’t watch out, I will project that unnecessary stuff (anxiety) onto my grandchildren.

Now, for those of you who read my past blog about the Mommy Wars versus the Bubby Wars, I must admit that I am now contradicting that post. In that post, I declared that Bubbies never ever compete with each other. In this post, I tell you how competitively I behave at the nursery school graduation.

But I digress.

I remember my own kindergarten graduation (not nursery – I don’t think those existed back when I was a child). My mother still has the picture of me together with my friend, also 5 years old, taken outside the building.

My cap was tipped off to the side, the tassel was hanging in front of my face slightly, and I had a crooked, but big smile.

I have no doubt that my grandmother who attended that ceremony, thought I was the best and the brightest. Did she whisper to my mom “hey her hat is crooked.” Somehow, I don’t think so.

Did they complain about crooked caps?

Mom, he’s four.

Today we complain about things that may not be consequential in the grand scheme of things. Do we (even grandmothers) find ourselves being too eager for our grandkids to be the best, the smartest?

Is that part of being a grandmother? Or is that excessive? I don’t know the answers

But what I do know is that the words uttered by my daughter-in-law, “Mom, he’s four,” really hit home.

Let him be four. Watch him grow. Watch him recite his part. Enjoy his serious-turned-smiley-turned serious again–face. His crossed legs, his sweet way of watching and smiling at all his friends as they walked up to say their parts.

At the end of the day, I need to model having my own head on straight.


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2 Responses

  1. Faige says:

    Talk about crooked hats..do u remember a friend who hid your shoe in 8th grade?

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