I took my daughter out to buy some reusable containers for both of us to take snack to school in. She picked out a couple of containers, a couple of reusable snack bags, and then as we browsed around Terra20 she started asking me when it will be time. She’s got all her supplies, she’s got some new clothes, she’s got her indoor shoes, she’s done the school bus safety course. She wants to know when it will finally be time to go.
I totally understand this. I was always the kid who loved school, loved getting ready, loved going back.
I’m thrilled that she’s so ready, I’m excited that she’s excited but right at that exact moment I found myself not so ready at all.
I did not cry in the store, I only almost cried.
I’ve spent so much time this summer thinking about how exciting it will be that I haven’t let myself mourn this part of our life that we’re losing. The waking up when we feel like, snuggling together in bed, choosing our plans for the day.
She’s so big, so grown up, but so little at the same time. When she uses words like startling and odd I forget that she’s only four. she only four. She’s smart and she’s tall, but she’s a little kid with little kid emotions and little kid fears. And little kid hopes and optimism.
She will love school. She will make friends. I have heard nothing but good things about her teacher, and even great things about her bus driver. She will be fine. She will still want to snuggle with me some days. She will still run to hug me when she gets off that bus.
When she needs me I will always be there, but this is the beginning of her not always being there when I turn around.