Dear Sloane,
You started daycare this week. And you did great! Why does that make me emotional to even write that?
You had no idea it was a “big day,” this past Monday. Which is the beauty of being six months old. It was just another morning, but this time in a new room, new smells, and more other little people like you.
You looked around for a second and thought, Huh, this is interesting. And then proceeded to put the toy that was in front of you into your mouth (like you’re doing with any possible thing you can get your hands on). They (the teachers) say we’re supposed to make goodbyes quick. Squeeze you tight, wave with a big smile, and leave. So I did, and you didn’t even flinch.
School started for most other kids this week, too. And there’s been a noticeable difference in the energy of our neighborhood with a fresh year on the horizon. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but there are more cars on the street for drop off and new signs in front yards of proud parents showing where their kids go to school. (That’ll be you and us someday.) There’s also that feeling in the air that summer is ending. So, I want to tell you what I want your summers to feel like.
I want your summers to be long. Long like time is when you’re little. When a single afternoon can hold about nine separate eras. Riding bikes with your friends, spraying each other with the hose in the backyard, grabbing ice cream treats from the freezer, jumping onto the couch snuggled up with your siblings. I want you outside until the light goes that gold color and then goes away, the cicadas getting loud and then louder, and someone (me) having to yell your name twice. I want you to lose entire days playing, laughing, being.
I want you to look forward to it so hard it aches. All of May, counting down. I want summer to feel like something that belongs to you. And then, I also want you to love going back to school.
I want the new school year to be filled with hope. A new backpack and picking out school supplies. The eagerness of finding out who your teacher is and which friends are going to be in your class. I want you to walk in on the first day thinking you could be anyone this year. I want you to believe that, all the way down.
And to hold onto that as long as you can.
Love,
Mom