Nineteen: Sleepiness, MENA, and Fatherhood

   "James?" I whispered, cautiously opening the door to our dimly lit bedroom, to see the collision of patterns- bright polka dotted duvets, blue and cream striped pajama pants, aquamarine paisley print wallpaper- and my darling husband, with our brunette, two year old son nestled beneath his arm. "Aww."
   "He said that he wanted to sleep with mama and daddy." James sleepily said, hie eyelids fluttering open. "How could I say no?"
   Harrison Hugo Colton, our gorgeous, inquisitive, twenty-eight month old who had my hair color, James' eyes and complexion, and we couldn't decide whose nose, was an angel when it came to bedtime. When I'd told my coworkers that I was going on maternity leave in March two years ago, there were four things I was told constantly: the twos were terrible, infant and toddler's sleep schedules were atrocious, and this was the best thing to have ever happened to me, ever, and I had to let them feel my bloated midsection. The first two things were positively false, Harrison was a little angel, who, when mama or daddy said let's go change into our pajamas, clean ourselves up, and read bedtime stories, would smile and dutifully totter after us.
   He was filled with such a whimsical curiosity, he'd see butterflies in the park and gleefully attempt to catch them, pondering why they could fly around, why they were such iridescent colors as he went, giggling. Every time he laughed, a melodic, musical vocalization that melted our hearts, I wanted to hold him tightly, telling him how much I loved him. James was even more of a puddle around our son, Harrison could look at him with the same wide, doe eyed expression that James so loving used on me to convince me that we did, indeed need to buy or do whatever he thought would be an excellent use of money or time, and James was following the tot's ever command- if he wanted to spend hours at the park or go to Grammy and Gramp's or have another piggie back ride, he'd receive it. We were financial stable, though not stable enough that James could buy the entire city, as he'd requested to do a multitude of times, so, as affectionate and doting as we were, we didn't spoil Harrison with tangible objects, we tried our best to reward him by getting to do something entertaining and educational with the family, though occasionally giving him some gummy bears and putting Caillou or Sesame Street on was an easier reward, since we were both working full time and were usually exhausted by the time the weekend rolled around.

  I'd discovered I was four months pregnant with him three Novembers ago, news I'd announced to James by buying a flush, yellow duck and tying a goldenrod ribbon around its neck, attaching the tiny envelope with the baby's sex scrawled on it in barely legible cursive. We hadn't been able to discover my pregnancy together, so I wanted to be sure that we learned whether we were going to have a bubbling, bouncing baby boy or girl simultaneously.

   "I got it!" I exclaimed, attempting to keep my exuberance hushed, as I laid down on the bed next to them. 

   "You got-? Congratulations, when do you start?"

   "The first day of school is the eleventh if September, I have to go in on the seventh through the tenth for some sort of mandatory training." I'd been offered a position at The Marguerite Elijah Nicolescu Academy of Liberal Arts, MENA, the interviewer told me it was nicknamed, was one of the most prestigious, rigorous private schools out of all of the ones that dotted Pittsburgh and its respective suburbs, as the Pre-Primary Admissions and Academics Department Head; I'd be over the two teachers who thought the preschool classes there, I'd make sure they were meeting their standards, that there was a proper balance of rigorous content that'd set the pupils up to be the top kindergarten class in the state and of artistic, entertaining crafts and playtime, since they were three and four yet olds and needed plenty of time to be creative and use some of their excessive energy, and I'd be on the preschool admissions board, along with the headmistress, the school's child psychologist, the academic department head for grades K through three, and one of the retired preschool teachers. 

   "Gods, this is so wonderful Lav, I know you'll do great."

   "And Harrison is practically guaranteed a slot in the preschool, since, as long as they can pass the entrance exam, which is just knowing the alphabet, colors, shapes, the basic counting numbers, animals, and knowing the continents, and he knows most of that, after that staff's children are all automatically accepted, he doesn't have to have his scores analyzed against the other kid's, he doesn't have to do the play group monitoring, or the ramble session." 
   The group play sessions is where they put your child with nine other randomly selected potential applicants and observed how they interacted with others, to make sure their social development was on track. The ramble session, formally named the Child Cognitive Interview, where the psychologist asked the kid a bunch of questions and listening to their responses.
   "They test the hell out of the kids..." He murmured sleepily, as I yawned.
   "It's just to get into preschool, then there's a performance evaluation to decide whether or not they should go to MENA for kindergarten. Fifty-five percent of the slots go to MENA preschoolers, twenty-five percent goes to kids who went to other preschools, twenty percent goes to those who didn't go to preschool and considering that they have four kindergarten classes, versus two preschool, pretty much all MENA kids continue their education. Besides, we still have a year before we have to worry about preschool for him."
   "I know, I just want to make sure he has the best..." He trailed off, as his eyes fluttered shut, a tired smile crossing his face.

Author's Note: This generation has lingered on a bit longer than I intended and I'm a bit anxious to wrap everything up and move onto generation two. That being said, we're approaching the last few chapters of the generation, so I'll be wrapping everything up and simultaneously leaving enough loose strings to set up generation two. I originally intended this to be the beginning part of a mega long chapter, however after I reread the original chapter nineteen, I felt as if was poorly constructed and didn't flow well, so I split it into two chapters, so if this chapter felt rather dull or you thought there wasn't enough pictures, I apologize!

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