Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Backpacks & Love Notes
I didn't cry the first day.
Until I got back home.
You didn't ask me to stay.
You clung to my leg a little longer than usual.
Daddy stayed back at home with Abby.
You kept asking if he'd remember to feed her.
(He did.)
You asked us at dinner when things can go back to how they always are.
They can't.
You told us you would let us know when you were ready to make friends.
You already have.
I leave at least three love notes in your lunch even though you can't read.
We shouldn't be so sure.
We hid Foxy Loxy in your backpack just in case you get lonely.
Because your teachers won't look there.
You began to cry this morning because it's all just sinking in.
That makes two of us.
We are so proud of our big preschooler.
You make growing up look easy, my Love.
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2 comments:
It's the lunchbox. Gets me every time. The backpack is a close second but nothing aches like the photo of holding the lunchbox. Trade the lunchbox for car keys and bottled water and you have me here dealing with it all too soon. <3
anonymous - the lunchbox gets me too. i can't even imagine what it must be like to see car keys in its place. :\
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