As I write this, I am waiting in the hallway of the school we plan to send our oldest to in the Fall. On here, I call her my big girl because, compared to the other two, she is big. But sitting here, in the elementary school hall, I feel a little like she is too young for this…we can’t be here yet….she’s my baby….kindergarten?….wait a minute, we just brought her home from the hospital LAST WEEK!
I am trying my best to carry on with this decision….the one that lets her grow up (the one I don’t actually get to make), but there is a tiny (ok, not tiny at all…HUGE) part of me that wants her to be little forever.
I want her to keep calling animals “aminals” and to think everything is magical and that Mommy and Daddy are her favorite people in the whole wide world.
Yet, I swell with pride when I look at the progression of her drawing, when I hear her sound out the words on the packages in our kitchen, when she tells me that the opposite of East is West and points in the right direction. Those things tell me that, without a doubt, she is ready for kindergarten. She is not a baby anymore…but a blooming little girl, stretching up high, and eager to be able to know and do more.
I’ll be fine.