A Letter To My Kindergartener

Dear Nicholas:

This week you started Kindergarten! Yippee!! Hooray!! Hallelujah!! I'm very proud of you because you did it without tears or temper tantrums. I knew you would, though, because you're a big boy and also because you're ready.

At Kindergarten orientation on Tuesday you met some of the kids in your class. Ella you already knew from Pre-K. I think she'll be a big help to you because she's a familiar face. I could already see how it's going to be with you two as you made silly faces at each other and sat next to each other on the little bus ride.

We saw another familiar face, and that is your teacher, Mrs. N, the same teacher Michael had for kindergarten. I was so relieved when we got the letter in the mail informing us that she was going to be your teacher. I know it will make your kindergarten experience that much easier.

Of course, in true Nicholas fashion you didn't want to participate in the Orientation activities and clung to me the whole time. "You do it," you exclaimed when I told you it was time to put your school supplies in the bins Mrs. N had placed throughout the room. Likewise you didn't want to do the craft that Mrs. N had arranged. But, you did them anyway. It was frustrating to me to have you act that way but I knew that this was just your way of expressing your nervousness and fear about starting kindergarten. Still, I was feeling a bit of trepidation - what if you were like this in class? I know how stubborn you can be.

At home that afternoon we had so much fun together - our little last hurrah of mommy and Nicholas time. We built towers with rectangular blocks and used letter blocks to make words for you to read (mad, sad, and, mat, fat, pat). Then we used Jenga blocks as dominoes. You estimated that we used 100 blocks to make our line, while I estimated 50. After counting them all we discovered that, at 84 blocks, your estimation was the closest! You were so happy that you beat me! Later on we made applesauce together - I peeled and you used the apple slicer to make chunks. "Let me do it," you said confidently.

As we worked together I realized all that we had accomplished that afternoon - reading, spelling, counting, estimating - all skills that you will be working on in kindergarten. And you did them in such a way that you probably didn't view it as work. Yep, no doubt about it - you are ready for kindergarten. But am I ready to let you go?

The truth of the matter is that I am. Your entry into the elementary journey is a lot different than Michael's was and I feel secure in the knowledge that you will be safe and in a place you will thrive. When Michael began kindergarten everything was new to us. We were new to the school, we didn't know his teacher, and he didn't know any of his classmates. Michael didn't have a friend to sit with on the bus either, or a big brother to walk him to his classroom, like you do.

Michael was a lot more innocent at five than you are, partly because you have the experience of being around your older brother and his friends and partly because you are more worldly than he is. When Michael was your age we didn't know about Phineas and Ferb or Spongebob - we still watched Sesame Street and Mickey Mouse Clubhouse.

Waking you up from a deep sleep at 7:00 a.m. on your first day of school was hard - you need all the sleep you can get to make it through the day and I hated to wake you. You were so tired that morning that I took pity on you and helped you get dressed when you asked. I even had to feed you breakfast to ensure you would have something in your tummy.

You perked right up, though, when we left for the bus stop and you saw your friend Jack from across the street walking with his parents. You ran right up to him, leaving me in the dust.

When the bus came, you gave me a quick hug and kiss, then boarded the bus with your peers. I waved to your smiling little bespectacled face as the bus pulled away, and then you were off. Despite my feelings of joy at this moment because you FINALLY made it to kindergarten, I felt myself tearing up. After all, you are my youngest child, my baby (although you haven't been a baby for years), and we are entering a whole new chapter of our lives. We are done with the nurturing preschool years and are entering the self-sufficient elementary years.

I feel that the preschool years were just long enough - we got to spend a lot of quality time together. But I know from experience now that the elementary years race on by - in just three short years I'll be putting Michael on the bus to middle school and you'll be the one in 3rd grade! So I will do everything in my power to savor every moment of elementary school.

I'm looking forward to seeing you grow and expand this year as I know you will. In no time you'll be telling me stories about what you and your best buddies do at recess, and I'll be watching as you begin to read and write with confidence.

Nicholas, I hope you know that whatever chapter of life you're in I will be standing in it with tears of joy and love because I'm so proud to be your mom!