Night Before Kindergarten

Millie pushed her comforter down to her ankles and sat up. Mom had just tucked her in, but she wasn’t ready to sleep yet. She swung her legs over the edge of her bed and slid to the floor, slowly, so her feet wouldn’t thump. Then she tiptoed over to her window and peek through the blinds. It was still light out, and Millie could see the neighbor boys playing basketball in their driveway.

If it had been any other night this summer, she would have been out there riding her scooter up and down the sidewalk cheering them on. Millie was forced to come in early tonight because she was starting kindergarten in the morning. 

“You need to start getting to bed earlier on school nights because you have to wake up earlier. I don’t want you to be grumpy in the morning,” her mom had said.

All the adults in her life were so excited about kindergarten, and that made Millie suspicious. Anything that required her to give up fun every day didn’t sound like something she wanted any part of. If Mom didn’t want her to be grumpy, Millie thought the least she could do was let her play outside with her friends until she was ready to come in. 

Millie didn’t understand why she had to go to kindergarten just because she was five. She was ONLY five. She hadn’t yet run out of things to explore and ideas to test. She didn’t need some teacher telling her what to do all day.

One of the basketball playing kids looked up and saw Millie watching. He waved to her and she snapped the blinds shut, afraid he’d come and tell her mom that she was out of bed. Millie held her breath and froze like a statue, anxiously listening for her mom’s footsteps. 

She studied the dark pink dress that was draped over the rocking chair next to the window. The sight of the outfit reminded her of the disagreement she’d had earlier, with her mom. She was supposed to wear that dress tomorrow with light pink tights, instead of the black and gold leggings she preferred.

“You need to wear school clothes to school. Those leggings are play clothes. You can wear them after school,” her mom had insisted.

Millie didn’t understand why she had to wear special clothes to school. The more she learned about kindergarten, the more it sounded like a place she didn’t want to be.

Millie felt that all her clothes should be play clothes. She didn’t like to wear things that were itchy, or that she wasn’t allowed to get dirty. 

She was a kid. Kids were supposed to play, and most of the time, playing was messy. She was usually too busy digging in the dirt, jumping in puddles, mixing smashed chalk and water, or riding her scooter as fast as she could to worry about keeping her clothes clean.

After what felt like hours, Millie let out her breath. She shuffled across the carpet to her bedroom door. Millie turned the knob slowly, and cautiously pulled the door open. She peered down the hall.The lights were off in the kitchen, but she could hear noise coming from the living room just beyond. Her mom must be watching tv.

Millie glanced at her new backpack that was hooked to the back of a dining room chair. It was stuffed so full of all her new school supplies, it looked like the seams might burst. Millie liked the unicorn and rainbow printed fabric of the pack, but she didn’t like that she’d have to take it to school. She wanted to bring the backpack on adventures, instead of using it to haul worksheets home. Her friend Martha, who lived across the street, went to kindergarten last year. One day Martha had shown Millie all the worksheets that were stuffed in her backpack. They looked boring, with lots of pencil tracing. Millie preferred to write and draw with bright and bold colors, and she didn’t care a thing about staying in the lines. She loved to scribble wildly, layering colors on top of each other. The thought of all those worksheets made Millie want to punch her new backpack.

After standing in the doorway for a few seconds to make sure the coast was clear, Millie felt brave enough to creep down the hall. Carpet muffled her footsteps, so there was little risk of Mom hearing her. When she reached the dining room, Millie got down in all fours and crawled to the corner where her dog, George, was sleeping. He opened one eye to look at her as she scooted towards him. Millie placed a hand on his back and patted him gently. George lifted his head, gave her a lick, and went back to sleep.

Millie curled up on the floor next to George, breathing in his Frito scent. She kept a hand on his back, giving him occasional scratches. If George was in charge, kids wouldn’t have to go to kindergarten. If George was the boss, they would play all day. Millie’s eyes teared up as she thought about spending so much time  away from him, everyday. He was her best friend, and had been since they day she’d come home from the hospital.

George rolled onto his back and stared at Millie. This was his way of asking for belly rubs. Millie petted his tummy until her arm grew tired.​

“You’re a good boy, George. All done,” she whispered.

George flopped back over and began to snore softly. Millie felt her eyes growing heavy. She yawned, rubbed her eyes, then crawled back to the hallway. After checking to make sure that her mom couldn’t see her, Millie tiptoe-ran back to her room. She closed the door, slowly, so it wouldn’t make a sound.

Millie paused to look at the book on her nightstand. It was the one Mom had read to her before tucking her in. It was a book about the first day of kindergarten. Millie grabbed the book and threw it to the ground, as hard as she could. She didn’t have a choice about going to kindergarten, and that frustrated her. Millie knew that lots of things in life weren’t fair, but she still had to get through them. Kindergarten was one of those things. Millie climbed into bed, pulled her comforter up to her chin, closed her eyes, and fell fast asleep.