I admit it: I shed a teeny, tiny tear this morning as my only child rode his bike out of the backyard on his way to the new adventure in his life: middle school.
This morning, he actually told me he “appreciated” the breakfast I made him, even though he didn’t have the time to eat it all.
“Gotta get to school,” he said as he tied the laces of the new red high-tops his grandmother gave him.
Like we did when he started kindergarten, we made him make time to pose for a dorky photo before he left.
What a difference six years make.
Unlike that frightened little kindergartner, the sixth-grader this year barely had time for a hug before he left for his friend Sophie’s house. He actually was a couple minutes ahead of schedule.
Other than worrying about remembering the combination to his locker, my kid seemed ready to take on middle school.
That’s a bit more than can be said for his mom.
