Last week the Bomber had his (quite overdue) 6 year visit with the pediatrician. Since he'd already confirmed he wasn't getting any shots (though he did get a Surprise! Flu Mist dose), he was actually pretty excited. He LOVES being picked up in car line, which is a fairly infrequent occurrence. (He likes aftercare, too, but there's apparently some elementary school cache attached to car line.)
Anyway, the appointment was great - he had a little trouble with the vision screening but has the ears of a bat, and he's still long and lean and way too smart for his own good. He's also super-ticklish.
While I was checking out, a family with a slightly older boy came in and the two boys had that silent, small boy communication they sometimes have in which they psychically share information about something important (which Ninjago guy has the best spinner? The relative merits of Spiderman and Captain America? The future of the free world?) and then each went about their business.
On the way out, the Bomber said "Mommy, why didn't that boy have school today?" "Why do you think he didn't have school, kiddo?" I answered. "Well, he was wearing his regular clothes," he explained. "Ah, well" I said, "he probably goes to public school. Kids who go to public school don't wear uniforms, they just wear their regular clothes."
This news literally stopped the Bomber in his tracks. He stood in the middle of the pediatrician's office parking lot, paralyzed by the injustice of it. "But...but... that's not FAIR!!!" And being the kind, patient and understanding mother that I am, I responded thusly: "Life's not fair. Here, let's get in the car."
Okay, okay, it's possible that when he got in the car, I explained all the great things he gets from going to his school and how nice it is that no one there ever has to worry about what they're wearing, or if they look cool enough. And I even left out the part about how they don't have to worry about looking cool because it's IMPOSSIBLE for anyone to look like anything other than a 1950s door-to-door vacuum salesman in that outfit.
So that's it, the first of his childhood illusions, cruelly shattered. Hopefully he's got some time before he finds out who's really leaving him money in exchange for his used teeth.