He’s actually been in kindergarten for almost a month, and I still can’t wrap my head around it. But just look at that guy. He’s so handsome. I love this kid so much. I love that he has my squinty eyes when he smiles. I love that his hair refuses to stay put and that it is always rumpled beyond belief when I pick him up from school. I love that his legs are always covered in bruises from days well spent running, jumping, falling, climbing. I love that those sparkly white shoes are now dirty and scuffed and full of playground mulch every day. I love how he talks my ear off from the time he wakes up until the minute he falls asleep. I love the peek into his head that his chattering gives me.
I love how much he loves to learn. I love that he asks so many questions in a constant quest to know and understand things. Every day he tells me all about what he learned in school that day, and then asks questions when he wants to dig into something further.
He’s good at math. My child. Good at math. I never would have predicted that.
I know every parent says this, but it seems like we just brought him home from the hospital yesterday. I’ll blink again, and he’ll be starting middle school. I’ll look away for just a moment, and he will be graduating college. Getting his own place. Falling in love. Getting married and starting a family of his own.
The days are long, but the years are short.
Those words have been ringing true lately. Especially when I’m desperately trying to make it to nap time on Saturdays, or trying to get two silly boys settled down for the night, or clinging to my last shred of patience at the grocery store. Because this baby that I just brought home from the hospital is now in kindergarten, and I need to soak up every last bit of this wonderful time with him.