It’s the first day of first grade and August wakes in tears. My son says he’s too afraid to get out of bed. I assure him that he doesn’t have to get out yet. “Why don’t you just get dressed in your bed, buddy?” I lift the clothes we picked out last night to the top bunk.
I long to make this better, to take his anxiety into me, to hold it for him. I cup his thinning, little-boy-cheeks in my hands and say what I’ve been repeating all the days leading up to this one: “You are brave and you can do this.” I know my words don’t make it into his fearful heart. What do I know of how small he feels in that school, how dangerous the unknown can seem to a six-year-old? He loved his teacher last year. What if this one is scary? What if he doesn’t have any friends in his class?
“You are brave,” I say again. “God will be with you, helping you.” He’s not convinced.
I know my son. What he needs is a story. He needs to feel safe in a story.
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I'm excited to be contributing today (for the first time) to as part of their series on .
Dort besuchte er die https://www.bachelorschreibenlassen.com primärschule und das klassische gymnasium