Boy Mom’s Chronicles: He Retired From Kindergarten

It has been a minute since I posted a Boy Mom’s Chronicle, but after this first full week of kindergarten, I feel like I have no choice.

Honestly, I’m starting to think I need a podcast.

Between the dogs, the husband, and this five-year-old, somebody is always testing me.

This week was Myles’s first full week of school—minus Monday because of Labor Day. Last week, they were only doing half days, but now we are officially in the big leagues: 8:40 a.m. to 2:40 p.m.

Apparently, Myles was not informed that kindergarten was a long-term commitment.

Tuesday morning, he wakes up and asks:

“Mom, is there school today?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not going.”

Excuse me?

“I retired from kindergarten.”

I’m sorry. You did WHAT?

“I retired.”

Sir.

You are five.

You cannot retire from kindergarten.

Nevertheless, he got dressed, went to school, and was actually in a great mood.

Now, one thing Myles absolutely loves is walking to and from school. The problem is that walking anywhere with Myles is like traveling with the mayor of a small town.

He has to greet everybody.

“Hi!”

“Good morning!”

Wave here. Wave there.

Meanwhile, these poor strangers are staring at him like, Do I know this child?

No. You don’t.

He just believes everybody deserves a morning greeting.

And honestly, when I asked him why he does it, he told me:

“It makes me feel good to say hi to people in the morning.”

Okay. Fine.

That’s actually adorable.

Still takes us forever to get anywhere, though.

Tuesday afternoon, he comes home from school announcing that he is DONE with school.

Then he pretends to throw his school uniform shirt in the garbage.

When I tell you I almost had a heart attack…

“BOY! Don’t play with me. Them shirts ain’t cheap!”

He starts cracking up.

“Mom, I got you good, huh?”

Yes, Myles.

You got me.

Fast-forward to Friday morning.

Again:

“I’m done with school.”

Apparently, he has better things to do.

Specifically, he is very busy building his house on Minecraft and therefore does not have time to attend kindergarten.

Unfortunately for him, attendance is still required.

“You just started kindergarten. You have a lot more years of school. Let’s get the show on the road.”

“No. I’m not getting dressed.”

Okay.

At that point, I simply dressed him because it was way too early in the morning for negotiations.

Once dressed, he sits on the couch, looks at me, and goes:

“So, Mom. How did you sleep?”

I tell him I slept so-so because Atticus, our Pomsky, was sick during the night and I had to wake up a few times to clean up after him.

Then I ask:

“Myles, how did you sleep?”

“Oh, Mom, I slept good because I didn’t have to clean up poop.”

…

Sir.

It is seven o’clock in the morning.

Why are shots already being fired?

I’m exhausted. I haven’t had coffee. I already wake up most mornings feeling like I haven’t slept in two business days, and my five-year-old has decided today is the day to start roasting me.

Eventually, we leave the house.

We get downstairs.

“Ooh, Mom. It’s cold out here. Do you want to go upstairs and get your sweater?”

“Yeah.”

Back upstairs we go.

I open the door.

“Your sweater is in your room.”

“It is? Where in my room?”

“On your bed.”

“What part of my bed?”

“The foot of the bed, Myles.”

This child proceeds to look everywhere except the foot of the bed.

So naturally, I go get it.

Then he says:

“Yeah, Myles, let’s put it on when we get downstairs so we can see if it works.”

See if it works?

It’s a sweater, sir. Not an appliance.

I ask if he wants to change into pants instead of shorts.

“No. I’m fine with the shorts. I just need my sweater.”

Okay, Linus.

We get downstairs. He puts the sweater on.

“Mom, I’m going to zip it up like a big boy.”

Wonderful.

A few minutes later:

“Yeah, this is much better, Mom. I feel good now.”

Great.

We continue walking.

He’s still greeting strangers, obviously.

Then:

“Mom, can I listen to some music?”

“Sure. What do you want to hear?”

“Please Don’t Stop the Music by Rihanna.”

Honestly? Great choice.

I tell him I’ll play it when we get to the next corner.

We get there. Rihanna comes on.

And apparently Rihanna gave him the confidence to begin round two of criticizing me.

“Mom, you wear the same outfit every day.”

First of all…

That is not true.

Second of all, I know exactly where this is coming from.

Myles has always been particular about clothing. Tags bother him. Certain fabrics bother him. If something feels wrong, the whole outfit is officially canceled.

This morning, the shirt underneath his uniform apparently did not meet his standards.

He refused to brush his teeth.

We changed the undershirt.

Changed the school shirt.

Negotiated.

Survived.

And now this little boy, who wears a SCHOOL UNIFORM FIVE DAYS A WEEK, is accusing ME of wearing the same thing every day.

“Myles, enough talking. Now you’re just spewing nonsense.”

We keep walking.

Next request:

“I want to hear Spider-Man.”

Translation: “Sunflower.”

So now we’re walking to school listening to Post Malone and Swae Lee while he continues his morning performance review of my life.

We get near the library, and he starts walking along the little area by the grass.

I tell him:

“That sign says KEEP OFF THE GRASS.”

He looks around.

“Ooh. Hopefully they can’t see me, Mom.”

Boy.

GET DOWN.

He laughs and gets down.

Then he looks at my purse.

“Mom, you wear the same purse every day.”

Now we’re discussing accessories?

“It’s my clutch. I throw everything in there and go.”

“Well, you need to get a different one because we all know red is the best one.”

Red is Myles’s favorite color.

Of course it is.

“Get a job and buy me a red one, then.”

Because at this point, sir, you have critiques, but I’m not seeing any financial contributions.

Mind you, all of this happened after I attempted to meditate for five minutes and do some breath work before school.

Five minutes.

That’s all I wanted.

He interrupted that too because of the Great Shirt Crisis of 2026.

Finally, we get to school.

You would think the morning production would end there.

No.

Myles says:

“Tell Daddy to walk to pick me up, and then we’re going to walk to the pirate park.”

For context, we’re on 31st Street.

The pirate park is on 1st Street.

That is THIRTY BLOCKS.

Long blocks.

This child is not walking thirty blocks after school.

His father is probably not walking thirty blocks after school.

There is literally another park closer to the school.

But Myles has already planned the itinerary.

“I know where the pirate park is. We drive there all the time.”

At this point, I’m done.

“Boy, go upstairs. Have a good day. I love you. Goodbye.”

And that was Friday morning.

By 8:40 a.m., my five-year-old had retired from kindergarten, insulted my wardrobe, criticized my purse, debated school attendance, reviewed his outerwear, greeted half the neighborhood, requested Rihanna and Spider-Man, violated library lawn policy, and planned a 30-block after-school excursion.

Meanwhile, I still hadn’t had coffee.

So yes.

It has been a while since I posted a Boy Mom’s Chronicle.

But kindergarten has officially begun.

And something tells me I’m going to have plenty of material.

At this rate, forget the blog.

I might need a podcast.

As for whether you should use Myles’s full name or “MJ,” it depends on your comfort level and how public you want the blog to be. If the blog is public, using “MJ” gives him a little more privacy while still keeping the story personal. If your audience already knows him and you’re comfortable using his name, Myles is perfectly fine. The most important thing is to use the same name consistently throughout the post.