And in just a few short weeks we'll be the parents of two school kids! I'm not sure why, but Joel entering kindergarten has me a tad more emotional than when Allison entered. When she went, it seemed like the natural thing to happen next. She was ready, I was ready, and when I walked her into the classroom, I was able to turn and leave without a whisper of nostalgia of the days gone by. But having Joel go off to that big world seems quite different now. As fretful and fitful as preschool-dom has been, I'm not ready to be done with it.
It's only a matter of time now before simple wonders aren't that wonderful any more, and wonders don't come simply... and blissfull ignorance learns too much too soon.
During our trip to Colorado we got to see the children marvel at the patterns in a rock, and name s'mores as the highlight of their week in the mountains. Such uncomplicated expectations are a far cry from Allison's growing curiosity about fashion, social status and... where babies come from.... We can see the world's influence in everything from the way she rolls her eyes, to the choices she makes (or doesn't make) at the dinner table, to lyrics she has memorized (to songs I've never heard of).
With Joel joining the ranks of the big kids, we're leaving behind this world of predictable and precious "firsts" -- first words, first steps, first bite, first big kid pants, big kid bed, first friend -- and trading it for some firsts that may be exciting (first loose tooth) and others that may be rather uncomfortable (first bully...).
Now it's Joel's turn to step out, and try to assimilate a new level of independence. I wonder what the first sign of his change will be -- you know, the first thing of "little Joel" that slips away, or the new thing that he takes on as a sign of his new, bigger identity.
I think with Allison it was when I saw her walk confidently into that big building, completely sure of herself as she went on her way to somewhere - without me. I remember thinking, "Shouldn't she need me to hold her hand? open a door? show her the way?"
No, she didn't. I remember my heart sinking a little in my chest.
I suppose this line we're walking now -- between dependence and independence -- is one we'll walk often, and it will look different at each stage of their lives from now through the tween and teen years. For now I suppose I can enjoy the little time I have left with the balance tipped my direction and savor the requests for assistance, knowing all too soon I won't be needed to reach, tie, open, shut, buckle, push, pour, wash, or choose for them. And I also suppose I can look forward to what it may be like to fill their big needs as much as these little ones. I hope that all these years of reaching, opening, buckling, wiping, etc., will offer me the privledge of hearing about and helping with struggles that go beyond the physical limitations of a preschool body.
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