The first day of third grade was last week. I think it was harder on me than it was for my little guy. He was so excited to walk to school, instead of riding the bus, to meet new friends and to be one grade older. I remember what it was like, moving across town and having to adjust to everything being new. I hope he'll do well. I'm excited for him and a little sad for me. He didn't want me to help him across the street, the crossing guard was there for that. He picked out his outfit, picked out new shoes while shoe shopping because he wanted the 'cool' ones-I draw the line at skulls, so we compromised.
What a breath of fresh air. Starting over fresh, a new outlook on life and the whole school year in front of him. I sort of had a flash of his childhood....How I used to rock him to sleep in my great-grandma's rocking chair, the same one my Mom used to rock me. I was there for his first steps. The smell of Dreft wafting through the air. His soft baby hair and fat little toes. The way he would hold onto my finger with all his might. Sometimes, he'll grab my thumb and do that now, much to my delight. He's growing up I tell myself, let him go and be independent. As I did. As all children do.
"What's shakin' bacon? Nothin' muffin!'' Bubbaloo
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