5 Days...
You will be a
Kindergartner
in only 5 Days.
Time has flown by. I can still remember the day I thought I could be pregnant. I can still remember the first time I felt you kick inside.
I can still remember your first cry. I can still remember all of the milestones you've reached up to this point.
I will always remember.
And now, you are off. Off to tread your own path in this world. I've been wrestling with emotions this entire summer, but it hasn't been until a few days ago that it's really hit me. These are my last days with you as a sweet, innocent, lovable child. Starting in only 5 Days, you will become a girl who has a life outside of my world. You will have good days and bad days. You will miss me but find comfort somehow. You will make friends and enemies. You will try your best and you will create your own opinions. Sometimes you will fail. Sometimes you will simply not care. But always you will make me proud.
I have been struggling with how to share my excitement and fears with you. I am excited for your new adventures and I know that you will do great. I am excited for your new friendships. I am excited to watch you learn and grow. I fear how I will react as I watch you leave on the school bus that very first day. I fear someone being mean to you. I fear you feeling sad and I am not able to comfort you. I fear I may not have prepared you enough. I fear that our close bond may start to unravel. I fear I will miss you.
Along with my fears and excitements however, lies a deep admiration for your strength and sensitivity. You amaze me everyday, Sarah. I love you.
I have spent the last few weeks of summer preparing myself to be a mom of a kindergartner. I've read the school policies, I've joined the PTA. I've learned bus schedules and volunteered to help at classroom parties. I've subscribed to the school newspaper. Today I received my first edition. The superintendent included a letter written by Dan Valentine titled, I Trust You'll Treat Her Well. As I read it, I cried. It seems to cover my thoughts perfectly. I want to share it here so that you may always know my feelings as you approach this new adventure.
I Trust You'll Treat Her Well
by Dan Valentine
"Dear World:
I bequeath to you today one little girl...in a crispy dress...with two
blue eyes...and a happy laugh that ripples all day long and a flash of light
blonde hair that bounces in the sunlight when she runs. I trust you'll treat her
well. She's slipping out of the back yard of my heart this morning...and
skipping off down the street to her first day of school. And never again
will she be completely mine. Prim and proud she'll wave her young and
independent hand this morning and say "Good Bye"...and walk with little lady
steps to the schoolhouse. Now she'll learn to stand in line...and wait by the
alphabet for her name to be called. She'll learn to tune her ears to the
sounds of school bells...and deadlines...and she'll learn to giggle...and
gossip...and look at the ceiling in a disinterested way when the
little boy across the aisle sticks out his tongue at her.
And now she'll learn to be jealous. And now she'll learn how it
is to feel hurt inside. And now she'll learn how not to cry.
No longer will she have time to sit on the front porch steps
on a summer day and watch an ant scurry across the crack in
a sidewalk. Nor will she have time to pop out of bed with the
dawn to kiss lilac blossoms in the morning dew. No, now she'll
worry about important things. Like grades...and which dress
to wear...and whose best friend is whose. And the magic of books
and learning will replace the magic of her blocks and dolls. And
now she'll find new heroes. For five full years now I've been her
sage and Santa Claus and pal and playmate and [mother] and
friend. Now she'll learn to share her worship with her teachers...which is
only right. But, no longer will I be the smartest [woman] in the
whole world. Today when that school bell rings for the first
time...she'll learn what it means to be a member of a group.
With all its privileges. And it's disadvantages too.
She'll learn in time that proper young ladies do not laugh out loud.
Or kiss dogs. Or keep frogs in pickle jars in bedrooms.
Or even watch ants scurry across cracks in the summer sidewalk. Today
she'll learn for the first time that all who smile at her are not her friends.
And I'll stand on the front porch and watch her start out on the long, lonely
journey to become a woman. So, World. I bequeath to you today one little
girl...in a crispy dress...with two blue eyes and a happy laugh that ripples
all day long...and a flash of light blonde hair that bounces in the sunlight
when she runs. I trust you'll treat her well."
I truly love you, my sweet Sarah Rose. I pray that you do incredible things!
I am with you always :)