He’s all ready.
He can tell you exactly how to get to his classroom (“you go in the doors, then right, then right again, then left, then the first door on the left”).
He can tell you he’s not supposed to have his frog moved from the green to the yellow (5 minutes off recess), the orange (10 minutes off recess) or – heaven forbid – the red (no recess at all!).
He can tell you how agonizing it was to wait for today after watching Laurel get to go to school yesterday.
He can talk about how he was ready to go nearly an hour ahead of time and couldn’t finish his breakfast because of his excitement.
He can climb the oversized steps up into the bus and find a seat, if a little uncertainly.
But what he cannot do is keep me from crying about all of it. I held it together until after we’d waved the bus gone, but then the dam burst.
Happy first day of Kindergarten, Ethan. Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll collect myself by the time I arrive to pick you up from the bus stop this afternoon, and I can’t wait to hear all about your day.
I love you. So does Daddy (who – just between us – I think might also be a little emotional about all this).