Sunday, August 26, 2012

On the Eve of Kindergarten


August 26, 2012

Dear Ethan,

Tomorrow is your first day of Kindergarten.  Somehow, the significance of this fact didn’t truly hit until today.  You see, today I drove past your school and choked up.  Today, I chopped vegetables and began crying as I listened to you in the next room, playing so sweetly with your little sister.  When you came in and asked if you could help, I had to compose myself quickly.  Today, and all weekend in fact, I could not get enough kisses from you, my sweet baby boy, all grown up and starting elementary school. 

Ethan, I have so enjoyed watching you grow into just about the cutest little boy.  You have your moments, but, really, you’re pretty awesome, and I find great pleasure in being with you every day.  And I know you feel the same.  My little homebody, you are always perfectly content hanging out with mom.  You’re such a good helper always, and I love that you still want to assist me in the kitchen or in cleaning the house.  I know, all too soon, this will no longer be the case.

At five years old, I see you as an incredibly creative and articulate boy.  You can still be on the shy side, but you’re definitely coming out of that protective shell.  Your mind is a crazy sponge, and you soak up everything, repeating lines from movies you saw months ago or constantly quoting your books to me.  One of my favorite things is to observe you playing when you think no one’s watching.  Usually near your Bat Cave, you make up elaborate stories with your figures that go on forever and ever.  Perhaps even more fun is watching you and Eleanor play together.  More and more, you are playing with her, not just near her, and you are always helpful and encouraging.  You love to teach her new things, and she eats it up and absolutely relishes the attention you give her.  My heart nearly bursts with pride when I witness you loving your little sister so tenderly, like when you snuggle with her and sing “Baby Mine” before her nap.  You love her so much.  

Though your new status of Kindergartner is making me feel nostalgic, I am also quite excited for you as you begin this new chapter.  I am not really worried about your academic success (let’s face it – you’re bright!), but I do wonder about the kind of student you will be in school and the new knowledge you will come home with.  I can hardly wait to witness you reading on your own since I know this will open up even more opportunity for you to explore other worlds.  You will, no doubt, be a voracious reader.  

I also wonder about how your personality will continue to develop as you start school full time.  My hope for you, and what we really try to stress to you right now, is that you will be kind to everyone.  As you get older, there will be even more opportunity to exclude others or put others down, but we really hope to instill in you a strong sense of self that will resist these urges.  In your world of good guys and bad guys, we want you to be a good guy, the kind you can always rely on to do the right thing.  But know that when you slip up, we will still be there for you, even if we are a bit disappointed.  

You may be growing up, Ethan, but I will always remember my sweet baby boy we brought home from the hospital five short years ago.  I can still feel you in my arms as I rocked you to sleep or see you smiling at me when you woke up in the morning, always happy to see me.  You, and later your sister, have been a source of such joy.  You both have filled a hole in my heart I didn’t even know was there until you arrived.  I love you so very much!  I know you will be simply amazing.

Love,
Mommy 



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