The Class of 2027

After our great Kindergarten debate a few months ago, last Monday I found myself listening to Will's future kindergarten teachers coo at me (literally--they were cooing--those voices!) about making sure my kid knows how to button and zip his own pants, and about how he has to know his letters and sounds by Halloween because kindergarten isn't about play kitchens and dress up anymore. I attended the meeting with another mom who introduced me to some "veteran" parents--this meeting was for their last kid, their baby, and they were so NOT apprehensive or nervous that one might even call them "Cool as a cucumber."

Then they played this

and the entire room was full of mascara-stained cheeks and sniffles--the veteran parents more than anyone!--so much so that the next person to speak was the school's guidance counselor and even she was having a hard time composing herself. I had this sudden realization that sending Will to kindergarten is only the beginning of hard things, I think, especially when they promised us we could follow the buses to the building and they would have extra boxes of Kleenex available on that first day.

They suggested we practice those must-know letters and sounds on plates of rice or sand, "Or you can find plenty more ideas on Pinterest," as though every mother in the room spent daily naptimes on there anyway (and they probably do), and I began to frantically plan out our rapidly approaching summer: breakfast, immediately followed by thirty minutes of "school" and then rewarded with a show, and I'd better dust off that Pinterest account and start finding literacy ideas because come November 1st, there would be intervention groups for kids who don't know their lower case letters and sounds and to my teacher's brain, that sounded horrifying.

Satisfied with my plan (which also included memorizing our home address, adding numbers one through ten, and being able to spell "Kauffman"--all things the teachers recommended!), my thoughts moved ahead in time, in no particular order to:

• transition meetings from elementary to junior high and junior high to high school
• college prep meetings
• college visits
• prom photos
• driver's license
• graduations
• moving in to college

and before long I had bawled my way through milestones that are literally a decade or longer away. 

I mean, he's the class of 2027. Is that even a year?!

Now would be a good time for me to say something appropriate about savoring the moments of him being so small, but those moments are past, friends. I don't even have to bend over to kiss the top of his head, and he'd much rather fly through the sky jumping off a swing then sit in a stroller and take in the sights. Oh sure--he's still young, and he loves a good hug and a snuggle during Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and he needs me and Greg, and he cries when we take away the sword for hitting his little brother or when we serve green vegetables for dinner--but my little whispers to "Stay small!" aren't audible at all. 

Instead I will keep gawking and exclaiming every time I buy another shoe size up, or notice his pants are too short; I will marvel at his vocabulary (and ability to spell his last name because we will get that, too, dammit!); I will clutch that bus pass in some adorable cartoon animal shape with yarn attached on August 25th and think, "No freaking WAY are you big enough to do this!" in much the same way I will clutch car keys and Algebra tests and acceptance letters and diplomas (I'm being assuming here, but I'll just call it "positive" and "optimistic").  

And there in front of me will be my big kid, whispering, "But I am." 

And that will inspire 987 more blog posts. 

-Kristin