This Boy.

He is ready.  He is ready.  He is ready.  I keep whispering this to myself.

Even though, I clearly am not.

My Finn.  My Baby.

He waffles between telling me that he is a grown up kid and telling me he’d like to just stay home and skip all of this kindergarten nonsense.  He also explained how to get onto his ‘phone’ because he made a video, just in case I miss him too much.  {It is certain, I will.}  In it, he tells me who he is and all of his favorite things.

As if I don’t have every piece of his being committed unfailingly to memory.

As if I won’t think all day about what he would be doing if he was by my side like he has been since forever.

Instead, Tate and I will adjust to a new normal.  I will get to do the things with her, that I did with him.  Story time at the library.  Gymnastics and swimming and walks at the park.  Just us two.

And we will wait patiently.  Patiently.  For him to grow and learn and have a whole day completely separate from us. 

His own thing. 

His.

Own.

Thing.

{Not with me, that is really what I mean.}

My hope is that he will come home and share every bit of it with excitement for all.  the.  new.  things.  That he will treat his teacher with the respect he treats his Mama, that he will show kindness to his peers, and that he will do his best.

He is sweet, this boy.  He is ridiculously brilliant and funny and just a lovely human being, even when he is being as stubborn as an ox.  That happens more than you’d think.

I couldn’t be happier to be his Mama, however bittersweet it is to have to walk him to his classroom, let go of his little hand, and share him with others.