My son begins kindergarten this week. My son begins kindergarten this week! I didn’t cry for preschool, but I have a feeling that as he climbs onto the bus or as that orange behemoth chugs away I’ll be shedding a few tears.
Don’t get me wrong: I’m totally ready and he’s totally ready. Shoot, he’s already reading on his own and begging for me to do science projects with him. He’s ready to experience a new environment and soak up something from someone other than me with my pathetic ideas of what constitutes a science experiment (clean, contained: let’s see what floats in water today). (Of course, there were those times we exploded plastic bags using baking soda and vinegar. Sssshhh!) And I’m ready to release him unto the world (and get some one-one-one time with my youngest son, finally)!
I think, when I cry, the tears will be sweet. I’ll be proud of him. I’ll be crying because I’ll be hoping for good things for him and wishing I could grant him more. But mostly I’ll be crying because the first day of kindergarten marks the beginning of an exciting new era in our lives. And these first five years passed so quickly!
Earlier this summer, I took a walk on the beach with my son, just him and me. On his own accord, he reached out and placed one of his hands, soft and wrinkled from playing in the ocean, inside mine. We walked along, casually talking, still holding hands. And I thought to myself, if only I could remember this moment forever. If only I could never forget this gesture, this sweetness.
Because the days when he thinks I’m cool, the days when he reaches out to hold my hand on a crowded beach, they’re coming fast to an end. And that orange school bus is coming around the corner very quickly!