His bare feet hardly make a sound as he shuffles down the hallway, blanket clutched, thumb in mouth. It's over an hour past bedtime but Michael is standing next to me as I sit on the couch.
"What if the pizza party's not tomorrow?" he whispers.
Oh sweet boy.
The first graders at Michael's school all applied for a "right start" library card from our local public library system. Since every last first grader got a library card, the library is providing pizza lunch for them, as a reward, and the first grade teachers are contributing sides so that they'll have a complete meal. None of the first graders need to pack or buy a lunch tomorrow. Michael has packed his lunch every single day of school the last three years. Apparently he's been laying in his bed, worried about what will happen if he doesn't take a lunch and it turns out that tomorrow isn't the pizza party day.
I assured him that, as we've gotten a physical letter, an email, AND a phone reminder about the pizza party, it will be tomorrow.
Our boy is a big time worrier. There's definitely some genetics at work there, but something else that is uniquely Michael. I wonder how much of the last hour and a half he's been worrying about the pizza party, or if it just now occurred to him that there could be a problem. And I wonder about all the worries that he doesn't share.
If only it would always be so easy to reassure him.