My son got his kindergarten classroom assignment yesterday, complete with a roster of items he needs to bring (thick markers, thin markers, labels, two-pocket folder, glue stick, glue bottle, backpack, nut-free snack, the hair of one newly born guinea pig, tissues). He’s totally fine with the transition and very excited. I am too, for the most part. But let’s face it: I have fears. I’m sure all parents do. Orientation should be for us, not them.

This morning I lay in bed for awhile thinking about what could go wrong because, you know, that’s what happens when you’re 32 weeks pregnant and get about 20 minutes of sleep per night. The New Yorker cartoonist Roz Chast needs to update her immortal “Insomnia Jeopardy” cartoon with a “Parents of a New Kindergartner” one. Let’s review our categories, shall we?

Fear, $100

He will be frightened of his teacher.

His kindergarten teacher appears to be perky and enthusiastic, and she signed her note with a little heart. Aw! But what next? In every elementary school across the land, there lurks a gnarled, bitter, I’ve-been-here-too-long screamer, an adenoidal creation of Dickensian grimness, who seems put on this planet simply to strike fear into young children’s hearts. I pray this person retires before my child encounters such terror.

Fear, $200

I will be frightened of his teacher.

Even worse! I still remember a long-ago coach of his who told me, apparently as a compliment, “You know, when you wear makeup, you’re actually attractive!” My heart soared; the extra 10 pounds around my middle fluttered. Do you really think I leave the house without CoverGirl lip gloss now?

Inadequacy, $150

Everyone will know how to read, do math, perform elaborate chemistry experiments and [insert academic achievement here!] but him.

I am putting absolutely zero scholastic pressure on him right now. He’ll go at his own pace. Kids are under enough pressure already. I know this and I believe this. And while I don’t think his friends will show up toting miniature copies of “War and Peace” in their cute L.L.Bean backpacks, I also don’t want him to feel outpaced or self-conscious if other kids do certain things quicker.

External Forces Beyond My Control, $400

There will be a bully!

And said bully will target my sweet, innocent tot as the repository of his hostility! Not going to lie: When his class list arrived, I cross-checked with his preschool roster to see who I knew and Googled/Facebooked like crazy the families I didn’t. I couldn’t find a few. Hmm…

Physical Calamities, $100

He will be exhausted.

Granted, my kid has been going to day care since he was 12 weeks old, but kindergarten is different. No nap time. No free play. He might as well be going into the military! Seriously, was it a bad idea to sign him up for both baseball and soccer this fall?

Fashion Faux Pas, $350

The cheap sweats I buy at Carter’s just won’t cut it.

I am not the mom who prowls the sales at Boden and Hanna Andersson. (I know some people love that store, but their stuff makes my slender son look like an undernourished elf.) Nay: I am the mom who gleefully fills her online Carter’s cart after a couple of glasses of wine with $10.99 elastic-waist sweatpants and matching hoodies. I dread the day when he comes home asking for a certain brand of jeans and a certain type of sneaker, or tells me how uncool his drawstring khakis are.

Logistical Nightmares, $500

Our new school schedule is not forgiving.

I’ve barely mastered getting to his current preschool by 5:30 p.m. (and it’s about two feet from my house!). School starts at 8:10 a.m. sharp. No more leisurely breakfasts spent hunting for underpants or lingering over soggy Cheerios and “SpongeBob SquarePants.”

Nostalgia, $250

I’ll miss his nursery school.

He’s been there for four years, and we love it. And there was something safe and cozy about knowing he was going to a “nursery” school, rife with Cozy Coupes on the playground and a forgiving open-door policy if someone forgot a stuffed animal. While I don’t think he’s off to Eton, I’m also not sure I can barrel through the door with his stuffed Ewok, Wicket, in case of an emergency.

Loss of Innocence, $300

He’ll learn bad words.

Right now, the worst word in his lexicon is “Bam!” This is usually uttered to score a point or fire off a scathing zinger, as in, “Mom, your arms look really flabby today! BAM!” Somehow, I know this will be quaint in about two months.

The Inevitable March of Time and Ensuing Existential Crisis, $1,000

I’m getting old.

I’m not the mom of a baby anymore. (Well, I will be soon, but not this baby.) There’s a part of me that still feels like I’m recovering from my first C-section, and not just because I think maternity jeans can and should be worn until one’s child hits college. Really: How is this possible? And that part of me hopes he’ll still want to do baby things every once in awhile, like watch “Daniel Tiger” or play with his lovies. Right now his room is a mix of old and new, Winnie the Poo and Legos, Curious George and “Star Wars.” He’s not a toddler, but he’s not quite a big kid. In a couple weeks, that will change. But hopefully he won’t. Not too much, yet.