I asked you today to take some pictures with me. In your very strong-willed sort of way, you *politely* declined. I explained that I wanted to get a few pictures of you with me, like I did with Drew before his first day of kindergarten. You still said no. I said “But Buddy, pleeeeasssse!?!?”
So Dad snuck this picture with his phone. You were not happy.
*Mama Confession* Making you mad was worth it to get this photo. I’m so glad Dad took it. I’m so glad I got to freeze this very moment in time - you and me, the day before your first day of school.
It’s been you and me, kiddo, for the past two years. Before you were born, I had my time with just Drew. And now, with your brother at school these last couple years, it’s been just you and me. Of course, your sister’s been around the past few months, but I still think of this as our time. She sleeps a lot and you’re so great with her… there were many, many moments it still felt like it was just us. I hope you felt the same way.
So, tomorrow, you’re off. The very first little step of independence and life away from home and to something that is just for you. And I’m going to miss you, my man. So, so much.
These days with you have been full. They have been busy and quiet and funny and difficult and active and exhausting and snuggly and joy-filled and full. No one challenges me as much as you. No one expresses his love for me like you. You, Reed, are one-of-a-kind.
A year ago I wondered how on earth would you be ready for kindergarten in time??? In my mind’s eye, you looked so much smaller than Drew when he began school. Somehow, you just seemed so tiny. We struggled and fought through bathroom issues, so likely that influenced my belief that you wouldn’t make it to kindergarten any time soon. Something must’ve happened this summer, though, because here we are, and tomorrow there you go, and *wham* just like that… full-time kindergartener.
You’re excited for tomorrow. It’s a big moment, and I’m excited too. But you’re also nervous. I’m nervous, too. (It seems these kinds of days warrant a whole slew of emotions.) It’s odd for me, though, as I’m a different kind of nervous for you than I was for Drew. Things aren’t quite as new for you as they were for Drew when he started. You’ve been in and out of the doors of your new school many times already, as we’ve taken Drew and picked him up every day. You know all of Drew’s friends and you’re familiar with a few teachers. But walking through those doors tomorrow; it’ll be for you this time, my man.
And you are so ready, Reed. You are so smart. And so social. And so sweet and creative and thoughtful and sensitive. I know you will love your teacher and you will make friends fast. I know you’ll love to learn and explore. You will have so much fun!
I am ready, too, Buddy. I’m excited to see you try new things. I’m excited to see your eyes light up like they do when you discover something new. I’m excited for me, too. I’m ready for my day to slow down just a bit, for some quieter moments to take better care of me. But goodness. I’m gonna miss you while you’re gone.
So promise me one thing? When you come home, will you tell me all about it? Because I’m going to want to hear about everything.
I love you so, so much.