I just said goodbye to a kindergartener and a third grader, and I have it on pretty good authority that they will pass those grades, so in a few hours I will say hello to a first grader and a fourth grader.
Does anyone else get melancholy on the last day of school?
I’m excited; don’t get me wrong. I love summer. I love the beach and the pool and the lemonade stands and the bike rides and the pancake breakfasts. I love traveling and playing with the kids. It’s a great time of year.
And I’m proud of those guys, and I’m thankful I have kids that are exactly the way they are. I think they each had an amazing year. They’re proud of themselves and are ready to move on.
But it’s the same thing I keep writing about. I want them to grow up and not grow up at the same time. Kindergarten will be in our family’s rear view mirror, and middle school is what we’ll be seeing out the front window.
That’s too fast. I’m not done with these guys being little. I’m not done being called “Mommy” and being hugged and kissed every day. I’m not done with those “scratch my back” requests; frankly; I’m not even totally done with kids jumping in our bed in the middle of the night because of a bad dream or they’re cold or, in Jack’s case, because “sleeping is boring.”
They change every day, I know that. I celebrate that. But today is concrete evidence they’re growing up. I celebrate that, too. But I get a little wistful that we’re all racing through their childhoods, not because we’re trying, but just because that’s the pace of our lives.
Well, now I’ve had my moment (thanks for indulging me) and I am prepared to greet summer with the same enthusiasm I’ll see from them when the school doors open this afternoon. So bring on the beach and the pool and (ooohhhh) the margaritas and the fun.
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