There's a Kindergartener Among Us

I don't know how this happened. I went to bed one night after tucking my newborn in the pack-n-play 2 feet from my bed, and I woke-up the next morning having to walk down the hall to get a 3-foot 9 1/2-inch 5 -year-old out of her full-size bed. She's groggy. I'm awake but still a little confused. What happened to that little bundle of sweetness who had just a little sprinkling of peach fuzz on her head? She now has long, beautiful blonde hair. Her eyes are the same, but everything else has changed. I look at her in awe as she stretches and rolls over to put her feet on the floor. She smiles and starts her dialog about what the day is going to bring. I snap out of my fog as I chase her down the steps giving her directions in step-by-step format for getting ready for her first "full" day of kindergarten. Of course, she only hears about 1/3 of what I say, so I start repeating at a rapid rate. "Hurry. We need to be on-time." I run up the stairs to pluck her siblings from their warm beds. One of them is happy to be starting his first day at his new school, while the other glares at me through watery eyes that are saying "You will pay for this later". And, I did, as she cried for 30 minutes when I put her down for her morning nap. I come back down the stairs and continue to look a my first-born. She's happy. She's excited. She can hardly eat because there is a class and teacher waiting for her arrival, and she doesn't want to disappoint. A warm tingly feeling comes over me. Tears come to my eyes. My throat has a relentless lump in it. My stomach starts to knot-up. I go back and forth in my mind all of the reasons I shouldn't be crying. . . then all of the reasons I should be. Suddenly I look at the clock and realize I should have been out the door two minutes earlier. I shake off my rush of emotions and yell for the kids to "get in and buckle". We race down the driveway and are off to school. Nolan talks about how well he's going to do when I drop him off. He was right. Landry sits in her seat with her headphones on, bopping along to Alvin and the Chipmunks. She has a perma-grin. There's no wiping that smile off . She's on cloud 9. Loving life. Things just couldn't be better. I drop them off into the hands of a stranger. I beat him up with a couple of questions. I give him the look that says "My children are in you hands. Don't mess this up." I "ask" if someone will be walking them to their classrooms. He says they will if I would like. Well, of course I "would like". He takes each child by the hand and escorts them into the front door. I sit there staring. They are happy. They are elated. They are beaming. They are big. I am crushed. Not in the way that breaks your heart, but in the way that holds you under a sentimental grasp for quite some time. That little baby is now a little lady. And I couldn't be more proud.