Elliot’s Water Bottle

I just looked at the calendar and did a double take. It’s August 22nd. If you’re a parent like I am, then you know what that means: the school year is upon us! What happened to the summer?! It feels like just last week my fiancé and I were in the Costco parking lot cramming bulk packages of camp snacks into the trunk of our car. Goggles for the kids’ swim classes. Three-packs of sunscreen. Shorts, pool shoes, sandals.

It was around this time last year that my fiancé and I were standing in an aisle at Target, shopping for school supplies for the kids, lists from the teachers in hand. We were on the hunt for water bottles. He grabbed a generic-looking Thermos one. A pretty shade of teal, but quite boring otherwise. I objected, ‘No, not that one. The Mario one.” It was Thermos brand too but made of stainless steel and had a huge picture of Mario from the Mario Brothers video game saga on it. 

“Why? It’s ten dollars more,” he said.

 “Trust me,” I told him, “He needs the Mario water bottle.” 

He looked at me in a sort of bewildered daze of confusion. It’s a water bottle. Who cares which one he gets, not only is it a trusted brand but it’s ten dollars cheaper. The only difference is that the other one had Mario on it. That was his argument. I told him that there are just some things that one needs to spend extra money on, to invest in their future.

Again, his eyes glazed over. Invest in their future. I could see the words repeating themselves in his mind, but not really finding an anchor. 

“And tell me how,” he asked, his eyes narrowing while his brain did the math, “How you calculated that those ten additional dollars for a water bottle that has a picture of Mario on it is an investment in his future?” 

Simple. I weave the story. “On his first day, Elliot will know nobody. He will go into a building that is unfamiliar to him, not knowing a single soul. He will be scared, and he will be shy. He will be quiet. In the classroom, the teacher will assign seats, and he will sit next to strangers his age. He will look into their eyes and then immediately avoid their gaze because he is shy. He will start to fidget with a loose seam on his shorts or tear at a cuticle. All like I did on my very first day of kindergarten.” 

I pause and he waits. Target, aisle A8, in front of a myriad of water bottles, all shapes and sizes and price tags. 

“But then comes lunch,” I say, quietly, “There are no assigned seats. It’s a chaotic, frantic free for all. He must choose where he sits. Alone in the crowd, he’ll be scared and quiet and shy. He’ll probably pick a spot by himself in the corner, like I did when I was his age. And he will be ignored. But if we buy him the Mario water bottle, if we spend those ten extra dollars, guess what will happen?” 

“What?” he asks, intrigued. 

“Some kid will come over to him during lunch. Some kid will see his Mario water bottle and say, ‘Cool water bottle. Do you like Mario?’ and Elliot will probably stuff his hands into his pockets and smile shyly and say, ‘Yes.’ And the kid will say, ‘Cool, me too,’ and then the kid will ask if he can sit with Elliot and then you know what will happen?” 

“They’ll talk about Mario.” 

“Yup. And then they’ll be friends. And then he will feel more comfortable and confident, and he’ll make more friends. And then he’ll smile and laugh with his friends while they talk about Mario and video games, and all the other things that they all have in common at that age. And then he’ll wake up each morning looking forward to seeing his friends and going to school. He won’t be afraid to ask his friends for help when he’s staring down at the math problems that the teacher has assigned, so he’ll get good grades. And when he gets good grades, he’ll keep looking forward to going to school and pursuing his education, and he’ll end up getting a scholarship, and he will be accepted to the college that he wants, and then he’ll have an amazing life filled with opportunity and, most importantly, he’ll be happy because of all of the friends he’d made – all because we decided to spend ten extra dollars on a Mario water bottle.” 

He looked at me like I was nuts. And then he grinned, picked up the Mario water bottle, and walked all the way to the checkout lane. 

That was last August, and at the end of the school year, Elliot graduated kindergarten. At his ceremony, the kids stood in line while their teacher handed them their graduation certificates and praised them for all their hard work. Elliot was beaming. I was staring at him, silently willing the tears of pride back into the sockets of my eyes. But my son wasn’t locking eyes with me; he was meeting the gazes of all his friends. He was smiling as wide as the sun was hot that day in mid-June. His hands weren’t stuffed shyly into the pockets of his cargo shorts. Instead, they held up the laminated kindergarten graduation certificate proudly, steadily, as he stood confidently alongside all his classmates. 

And then the group dispersed. The kids began to run around the school yard. Did he run straight into my arms? No, he did not. He ran off with a group of his friends – so many of them – and they ran around the playground smiling and laughing and playing tag. 

Later that day, while we were all seated at the dinner table, I asked Elliot how he had met each one of his friends. “Oh! On the very first day of school at lunch, Nate asked me about my Mario water bottle. And then so did Jonathan. Mom! Do you know what! My best friend James had the exact same water bottle! Joseph liked Bowser and Emily’s favorite character from Mario Kart was Princess Peach.” My fiancé dug his fork into his mashed potatoes as we exchanged a quick look, and grinned. 

Starting a new school can be tough. Whether your kiddo is just heading into kindergarten or facing a new school because of a big move or a new custody schedule, a room full of strangers can be daunting. Luckily, kids find common ground in the simplest of things, and so, something as simple as a fun water bottle can be a catalyst for a successful school year!