It was a beautiful afternoon. The sun was shining, the air was crisp, and my youngest’s kindergarten door had just burst open on a Friday. Onto the blacktop, she came running, wearing a smile that made her whole face sparkle.
“It’s the weekend! I want to play!” she said.
I watched as a group of her friends handed their backpacks to their mothers and then sprinted to the playground.
“Can I go too?” she asked, staring up at me. Her eyes looked hopeful, her expression pleading.
“Not today, honey,” I said, grabbing her backpack. “I need to drive your sister to practice.”
She sighed. “Again? But we have to do that every day! I want to play!”
“I know, honey. I’m sorry,” I said. “We can play later.”
Her smile dimmed, and she started walking. And all afternoon, she sat in the car without complaint as I shuffled her siblings to and from practices. It wasn’t until just before dinner that I finally had time to take her out on her bike.
“Can I have a play date now?” she asked, oblivious to the hour.
“Not today,” I said. “But I’ll check the schedule this weekend. We’ll find some time to squeeze one in.”
Right then, I felt her sadness and exasperation at having her needs often “squeezed in” between the demanding schedules of her older siblings. Her kindergarten experience looked nothing like it did for my others, a truth that felt both inevitable and unfair.
When my oldest daughter started kindergarten, the only after-school activities on our schedule were hers. Afternoons were often spent on the school playground after the final bell; our only concern was the setting sun. Play dates were also common, often planned not in front of a calendar but at the last minute after the final bell.
“Can so-and-so come over today?” she’d ask.
“Sure,” I’d say, “if she doesn’t mind walking back with us.”
No one ever minded. And back at our house, I’d help my daughter pull out all the toys: bikes, scooters, Power Wheels, and a ride-on plastic truck for her little brother. Often, I’d offer cookies or cake I’d baked earlier that day with her little brother.
Afternoons were relaxing, fun, and full of outdoor time. Even once my son started kindergarten, we rarely got in the car. We seldom had anywhere we needed to be.
Of course, there were times this, too, felt stifling. Early bedtimes and nap schedules often limited the activities we could sign up for, making afternoons long and sometimes lonely, especially once the weather turned cold. And having to load the kids into car seats to go anywhere was overwhelming, especially once my youngest was born. Even then, finding the right balance of home time and activities was never easy.
Today, it is easy to load everyone into the car. Everyone can click their own seatbelt. My youngest no longer needs help with her booster seat. Which is a good thing because we’re in the car a lot. We are off to gymnastics, football, baseball, religious school, guitar lessons, and swim practice.
While the older kids are thriving, I do worry that the busier schedule is depriving my youngest of the time she needs to be a little kid—to strengthen new friendships on the playground, ride bikes on the street, and spend evenings reading stories instead of shuttling around in the car.
These days, I can’t remember the last time I baked cookies, got our old Power Wheels to work, or had our youngest in bed before nine o’clock.
I always knew that kindergarten would look different the third time around. As the third child, our youngest isn’t creating our schedule like our first child but fitting into it, her life a puzzle piece forced to join a picture already filled with lots of moving pieces.
And yet, a part of me wishes I could bring back at least some of her siblings’ kindergarten experience, that I could find a way for her to still feel the magic of an unscheduled afternoon.
So, I have been trying to find ways to make her puzzle piece just as important as all the others. I’ve found that her experience doesn’t need to look like her siblings’ to still be special.
These days, we don’t plan play dates on the blacktop, but I have found ways to fit them into our calendar. I’ve also found time to volunteer more at school—something I did rarely when I had babies at home.
Without younger siblings at home, I’ve found that it is easier to make our limited time more meaningful. I’ve started having more one-on-one outings after gymnastics drop-off and extra playground time during her brother’s football practice. Lately, I’ve even found time for us to bake together, ensuring she still gets those special cookies and a chance to tell me all about what’s happening in her classroom.
Starting kindergarten has been a big change for my daughter, and balancing the after-school schedules of three kids has been a big change for me. Together, we are finding our way—maybe not always to the playground, but to new and different places that are creating memories I know we’ll both remember.
Even if kindergarten for the third time looks different than I’m used to, for her, it will be her first and only experience. And I’m going to do everything I can to make it great—both in and out of the classroom.
