I just took my oldest to his first day of third grade and I am weepy this morning. I used to teach third grade. Now I am home, unshowered, getting ready to play Wii Sports with my four year old, and I have one more year before there is a shift. There are probably going to be other shifts in preparation for the big shift, but I really would be fine if they all went away for a bit longer. Third grade is a wonderful year in school. It's a biggie. Kids grow up, become independent in many, many ways, grow deeper in friendships, and move from still little and needy to no longer kissing their mommas in public and fixing their own breakfast toast. They also tackle cursive, multiplication tables, and writing pages of thought. Space gets introduced in science because third graders are getting mature enough to comprehend outside what they can see. Good stuff. But if I could, I'd pause right here for just awhile. I am okay with him kissing me in public, and I am okay with him believing me for better lack of understanding. I am okay with second grade. I am okay with standing still - no shifting - for just a little bit. I am aware it is inevitable, and I am excited about future experiences, but just for today I am ignoring that summer is over.
He's having a great time as I write this, by the way. His two best friends are in his class, and the teacher naively put them all at the same table. Luckily he's still young enough, for a awhile longer, that he tells me everything, and I can't wait to hear all about it!