I don’t have one of those “first day of kindergarten” posts.
More like one of those “weepy mom the night before kindergarten” posts.
Not so much that I blinked and five years passed… but rather,
Holy smokes – do I trust anyone on the planet to love my kid like I do?
I’m unsure how – for the first time – to entrust my son to someone who has a room full of energetic kids and a finite amount of brain cells and attention to devote to each.
Will she know that he will sit and play with a set of tracks for an hour?
Will she think his constant narrative is endearing and hush him with a smile?
Will she be kind enough to help him with the buttons on his jeans?
Will she remember that he hates to be cold but might be shy to ask for his jacket?
Will she think he’s funny?
Will she hug him and tell him he makes her happy?
For seven long years, I packed this hope away. The idea of being that mom in the school parking lot, waiting to hear about her kid’s day – was folded painfully away with the assumption that I’d ever have a child.
And then he came.
And I was wrapped up in the wonderfulness of having someone who needs you.
And you don’t think about a time when they will ever not need you.
And suddenly it’s tomorrow.
And I’m unprepared.
It’s gonna be a good year.