My beautiful Bits “finally” got to start school today. She is only 3 (nearly 4, and thinks she should be 8), but her best friend (i.e. Bug) started full time school last year for a K-Readiness program (her age precluded kindergarten). It nearly kill Bits to watch her go every day.
When we signed the girls up for school this year we had told Bits she could start school this fall. She waited and waited. Bought her backpack and supplies (paper towels, tissues, etc). Waited and waited. And then the big day. But wait, the big day was when her sisters went to school but she had to wait another day because she’s not every day. The tears, the anguish, the pleading, the anger. (I think she really did go through all the levels of grieving in one day!)
So today her Daddy and I took her to school. She got to walk in with her own backpack and find her own locker. She was so proud. She immediately put her stuff away and got to business. Tracing her name and finding her name tag. She did great. She gave me a hug, gave her dad a hug and away we went. According to Mike, she had a great day.
I’m still slightly traumatized. My youngest baby is taking her first steps away from me. Don’t get me wrong, she’ll do great. But it’s my last first. It’s the last time one of my kids will first go to school.
These moments hit me hard. I’m super happy with our family size and I’m happy my kids are healthy and growing and hitting these moments at the right times. But yet. There’s just a little bit of sorrow. I know that soon she will have friends that we might not be friends with their parents. I know that she will soon not care to give me hugs but instead run out of the car or onto the bus with a ‘bye mom’ (or not so much as by-your-leave). I’m just not quite there. So I sit here just a little sadder than I should be. Fly little Bits, Fly. Don’t notice my tears. Notice my smile and my pride.