I love kindergarten.

I spent a couple hours in Sophie’s classroom this morning, and yesterday’s sour mood washed away in a sea of Tempera paint. I cracked up when I overheard one kid say, “I love how that paint smells!”

Me, too.

Now, that’s not to say that I could ever teach kindergarten, or spend more than a couple hours at a stretch every once in a while. I don’t envy Ms. X. She’s got the toughest job in show business; I am in awe. At one point this morning she told the kids they were too loud, and that there would be “No Talking”. Fat chance, I thought. But it happened. Silence. For a while, at least.

I was there today to help prepare for one of the biggest events of the year, the Kindergarten Rodeo. This is a big deal. And because I SUCK, I actually missed Annabelle’s rodeo, two years ago. Ray and I were on a Vacation. (I won’t name drop cities but it was big enough that there was no way to cancel, once I realized there was a conflict.)

On top of that, it’s looking like this will be Sophie’s only Kindergarten Rodeo. Before now, I haven’t worried about such things. The Halloween carnival, the Christmas show, Valentine’s Day — all special times in kindergarten, but I didn’t let myself get too sentimental, figuring we’d be doing it all again next year.

Now it looks like that won’t happen. I saw Ms. Y — the special ed teacher turned first grade teacher, the one I hope Sophie gets — for the first time this morning, since the big announcement that she’d be teaching first grade, and we both got a little teary, we were so excited at how well things are working out. (Of course teacher assignments are up to the principal, not me, but I’m hopeful.)

I could only chat with Ms. Y for a few minutes, since I was on paint detail.

The kids painted their hats two at a time, and it was interesting to note that almost every one tackled the brown paper bags the same, by painting different blocks of color on each side, and another color on the brim. The best artist in the class went crazy; I envied her confidence as she swirled colors all over and made big polka dots on the top. Her hat looked fabulous.

The kid who tends to have the toughest time in class also strayed from the norm, mixing colors, but as Ms. X had cautioned might happen, he used too much paint and his hat got saggy and gross.

Sophie was so good. Not just at painting (she took her time and she, too, strayed from the color blocks — I knew she would — her hat is second from the left, on the bottom, above) but at having me in the classroom. Months ago, it would have been impossible. She would have interrupted Ms. X during calendar time to point out I was there, left the carpet for hugs, and otherwise been inappropriate.

Today she was a little lady, even allowing me to put her hair up in a rubber band to keep it out of her face after I pointed out that I had mine up in a rubber band. She did leave the classroom for a good hunk of the morning, which made me sad — and a little worried. I’m not sure she gets more out of 20 minutes each of occupational therapy and speech therapy than she would out of completing independent tasks in the classroom, which is what happens while Ms. X runs reading groups.

(Ms. X says we’ll discuss that later, that Sophie still has plenty of time to get her work done. I have a feeling she’ll tell me that if we take the therapy away, Sophie won’t get it back. I do wish the therapists could work with Sophie in the classroom setting instead of yanking her out, especially with first grade looming….)

I snapped some photos of the barrel-ful of stick horses the kindergarteners had made at home. Rather, that the kindergarteners’ moms had made. (Maybe some dads; who knows?)

I admit that I went a little nuts with Sophie’s horse. (Can you guess which is hers?) I made a special trip to Michael’s for a wig, hat, plastic flowers, false eyelashes, googly eyes and hot pink Duct tape. For someone whose personal fashion mantra is “get dressed then look in the mirror and remove one accessory” I really went overboard the other way.

“I overaccessorized Sophie’s horse,” I texted my sister, the night before the horses were due.

“Oh, you’re one of THOSE moms,” she replied.

Yeah, I guess. I am in good company — several of Sophie’s horse’s companions were also pretty gussied up.

But none of them looked like Dolly Parton sans boobs.

“Name her Dolly!” Ms. X said. Annabelle was really rooting for “Gaga.” But Sophie had her own ideas.  After considering and rejecting “Mommy-O” and “Grandpa,” she settled on a name I think is just perfect:

“Sophie Belle.”

Piglet is lost.

Now you might assume that this is not a big deal, as you admire Sophie’s stuffed animals — here’s a line up from this morning — including all the pigs and variations of Piglet. You would be wrong.

In fact, Sophie owns three wind-up musical Piglets — designed by Gund, all grasping purple butterflies — but to Sophie, not all Piglets are created equal.

One is at school. One has a green sticker with her name on it. The missing one has a purple sticker. Sophie can tell the difference blindfolded, just by letting the tip of her finger graze the tip of Piglet’s ear. I know. I’ve tested her.

We were shocked she fell asleep at all last night, without Piglet With The Purple Sticker. I know it’s just a matter of time before there’s a major meltdown.

So if you see Piglet, let us know.

In much better news, here’s what Sophie found: Reading!

Sophie loves homework. (Probably because Annabelle always has it. Annabelle does not love it. I wouldn’t, either, if I got all those math worksheets.) So when Sophie comes home with a book to read to us, she’s thrilled.

But she doesn’t always do so well with it, even though it’s a book she’s already read in reading group with Ms. X. Particularly if we wait til bedtime, she’ll get a few words, but for the most part really struggles. We’ll make it through the title on the cover, then turn the page and she’ll stare blankly at the title page — even though the words are the same.

I remember when Annabelle learned to read. It just happened. I spent a lot of time thinking about that switch that goes off in your head when you “get” that the word on the page refers to SOMETHING — that heady feeling that suddenly, literally, you hold the world in your hands. (Depending on the book, of course. Some books, not so much.)

With Annabelle it happened quickly. With Sophie it didn’t, and I was beginning to wonder if it ever really would, particularly when just a couple weeks ago, Ms. X said Sophie would learn to read by memorizing sight words, rather than phonetically.

Last night, in the flurry to find Piglet and comb tangled hair (I swear, my kids are starting to look like sister wives — time for haircuts!) I forgot about the book. Uh oh. I grabbed it and grabbed Sophie and hit the couch.

And she got it. I think I’ll always remember this book, the way I remember my first French dialogue – and the only French I remember — from high school (Bon jour, Alice! Bon jour, Phillipe! Ca va? Oui, ca va. Et toi? Pal mal.).

For posterity, the title is “Is it for me?” by Jodi Lee, illustrated by Laura Freeman — “Decodable Book 10″ by Harcourt. And you knew this was coming, so here:

It is a red box. Is it for me? No, it is not.

It is a big box. Is it for me? No, it is not.

It is a tan box. Is it for me? Yes, it is.

It is for me. It is a cap!

Yes, she had trouble with a couple of words, like red and cap, but with help she sounded them out. She read entire lines at a time, then insisted on reading the book to Ray when he arrived home from a bike ride.

The best part was that Sophie grabbed my arm and dissolved in happy giggles — the kind that take her breath away, and mine, too — every time she finished a line.

Now, it’s true that she also dissolved in giggles this morning when, at her behest, she and I pretended to light candles and sang “Happy Birthday to Sophie” a half dozen times. Each time she solemnly put her hand on her chest, savoring the moment like we were in front of a big chocolate cake and all her friends, rather than in our PJs on the bed. Then the giggles.

But I think she knew how special the moment was last night. I think she “got” reading.

I ran to text Ms. X. The phone rang immediately. She was beside herself.

“I had to call and tell you that Sophie never read that book today! She missed reading group!”

I remembered that Sophie had been late; we were getting her feet cast.

“She read that all on her own!” Ms. X practically yelled.

I told her about the giggles and she said that’s what all the kids do when they figure it out. We had some giggles of our own and Ms. X made me promise to apologize to Robert Polk since Sophie was clearly reading phonetically.

That time, at least. We’ll see how reading homework goes tonight. But first, we’ve got a horse to make for the Kindergarten Rodeo. And a Piglet to find.