When our daughter, Sylvie, who is our only child, had her first day of kindergarten, I was a mess. I cried so hard when I dropped her off in her classroom that her teacher came over to me and gently asked me to leave. “You’re upsetting the other students,” she whispered. I looked around, and to my horror, two kindergarteners, freaked out that I was sobbing, were crying, too. Sylvie, in the meantime, was happily chattering with friends.
My daughter never forgot the scene I made those years ago. So today, her first day of fourth grade, she banned me from drop-off. This morning was a scramble. Sylvie, her dad and I all had such a fun summer together this year that we were in a bit of denial that it was ending—I barely had anything for her lunch (but at least I remembered to include a festive gummy worm in honor of the first day of school).
When my husband, Tom, returned from dropping her off, he reported that Sylvie’s new teacher had asked her if she was ready for fourth grade. “Sort of,” my truthful child replied. Then Tom got on his computer and quickly ordered some school supplies he had forgotten to get and Amazon Prime-ed them. We all have to be dragged into the school year a little bit, but by next week, we’ll be back in the groove. Hopefully.