It’s the first day of school, and the five other kids in our house were out the door half an hour ago. You were up as early as they were, so excited. Your school day starts later than everyone else’s. “So unfair that I have to wait!”, you say.
I am grateful that your morning needn’t be so fast. Little caboose, you’re so often the one along for the ride while we attend someone else’s recital, or game, or show, or event. Just for this morning, I am grateful for the time I get to enjoy you, all to myself.
You, my girl whose tongue wags at both ends from sunup to sundown. So often I find myself saying, “Hang on, hang on! I can’t hear you when someone else is already talking.” I am grateful this morning for the time to turn my undivided attention to what you have to say. You, with always one more question.Yes, I did notice that you set your alarm clock all by yourself. No, I don’t know if third grade teachers let students use calculators. No, I don’t know if third graders get to draw on the first day, but I hope they do, too. Tell me for just another minute about how much you love to draw; tell me again how excited you are about the new big box of crayons you have this year, and how you might share them with others, but only if they agree not to break them or peel off the paper.
You with your sense of style on proud display with your new neon hightop sneakers. Braving the mall with you to find those was totally worth it. You’ve picked out every outfit you’ll wear from now through Monday? I can’t say I’m surprised.
Yes, Azure, I can think of a book you might like, let’s go into your room to see. I love hearing about your newly discovered passion for reading, and listening as you pick out your book to pass the next hour while telling me that though you love chapter books, you really appreciate it when they still have a few pictures.
This morning it’s so hard for you to wait, and so hard for me to hurry. I’m cherishing the minutes that I get to enjoy you, my last baby, at eight years old.