How did this happen?  How could it possibly be that enough time has passed between that positive test and all the nausea and sleepiness that my first born is ready for this? I know that I. am. not. ready.


I look in his eyes and see a little boy, and I see him play and he still seems so little. Then he stands up.  Almost up to my armpits already. He knows his alphabet, at long last. He helps with a few small chores. He can work a tablet better than I can.

I see this. I know it.

And, still, I am not ready.

It is such a cruel joke that my children’s childhoods are going so fast (all while I remain 29 years old. Ahem).

The school supplies are all purchased,  looking new and so pristine.  His school uniforms are hanging neatly in the closet, waiting for him to wear them. His new shoes are ready.  His books are sitting, unspoiled and unopened, waiting for his first recognitions of words.

Everything is ready except me.

In a few days, he will be a “rising kindergartener” no more. He will be a kindergartner.

He is smart and engaged and anxious to meet his new friends and teachers.  (And also to lord his School-Attending status over his younger sister).

He is ready to test his new wings.

He is ready to BE a kindergartner.