The End is Just the Beginning…

I should really be working right now. Or doing laundry, planning my son’s birthday party or one of the scores of other things on my to-do list.

But all I can think about is my Superhero, and the fact that today was his last full day of kindergarten. This current soft spot in my heart is what finally brought me back to my blog, which has been languishing as I tended to kid things, took a trip to Washington state, waded through a mountain of work, and appreciated being outside minus 10 feet of snow.

It’s such a cliche to say the school year flew by, but it totally did. I can’t believe the boy who made me a mother is about to turn six next month. It seems like we were just shopping for his first load of school supplies. Wasn’t it just yesterday that I melted into a puddle of tears as we walked down to catch the school bus for the first time?

Weren’t we just so excited for the 100th day of school?

Dang, I guess that was a while ago.

So before I forget, I need to record some of the awesomeness I want to remember from kindergarten.

— One day, Superhero came home talking about something sort of far-fetched. I gave him some side eye and he was like, “I swear, mom! For real life!” I think he meant ‘in real life,’ but he said ‘for real life’ and it was so cute, I didn’t bother correcting him. He still says it today.

— All of the sudden, he came home using expressions you’d hear from an exasperated teen. When something is just too ridiculous for him to process — ie: his sister, Sweet Pea, making up silly song lyrics, or me being goofy when he wasn’t in the mood for it — he says, “Reallllly?” or “Seriously?”

— For his entire preschool and elementary school career, his favorite job has been the calendar helper. He’s very into days and months and numbers and countdowns. He was the calendar helper today, on the last full day of school, and he was OVER THE MOON about it.

— His penmanship no longer looks like a team of Clydesdale horses were perched upon his hand as he was writing. It is finally fairly legible, which has led me discover that he’s actually a very good speller for his age. A boy after my own word-nerd heart! If it kills me, my children will know the difference between there/their/they’re, your/you’re, etc., way before the school tackles it.

— By nature, Superhero has always been quiet and shy in new situations. This year, his confidence has skyrocketed, along with his creativity and imagination. It’s a beautiful thing. 

— Superhero’s class exceeded my expectations in every way. He had a teacher that blew me away. She has every, single quality that you’d want a teacher to have: Smart. Funny. Encouraging. Loving. Honest. Silly. She is the real deal. The total package. Everything. A person who makes school so much fun, Superhero is a little disappointed it’s summer.

— Because of Vera’s leadership and community-building, there isn’t one child in that class that he doesn’t consider a great friend. He asked me if he could have the entire class over for a sleepover. (While I love, love, love the kids, my answer was something along the lines of Hellz to the No.)

And his little group of guy friends? Priceless. I have some darling and hilarious pics of him and his eight pals posing in a big line. I wish I could post them, but I won’t, because other people’s kids and all. So, here he is with his teacher:

I hugged Superhero a lot today, and I am grateful he indulged my sentimental mood.

I also hugged his teacher a couple of times. As I was leaving room 116 for the last time, I squeezed her once more. I’m hoping it came off as a “Thank you for giving so much of yourself to our children every day” hug, rather than a “I’m a little bit crazy and you may want a restraining order” hug.

But I just wanted to cling to every ounce of this kindergarten experience for as long as possible. Because in, like, two minutes, he’ll be finishing third grade, and then seventh, then high school. While I’m excited for him to live his life, I can’t even handle the thought of how quickly it’s all going down.

After school, with a smile on my face and a tear welling up in my eye, I told Superhero I was so proud of him, even though it was hard to watch him grow up so fast.

He was all, “Seriously, mom? It’s awesome! I’m about to be a FIRST GRADER!!!!!!!!!”

“Seriously, dude,” I said, “for real life!”

And then I cuddled him on the couch, and I savored every second of it.

Fly high, Superhero. You can do it.