What Kindergarten Means to Me

I know what kindergarten means to Kirby. It means full days of being away from his little brother and big hugs at the end of them; it means recess and playing "chase the girls" with his buddy Teagan; it means sneaking chocolate milk when you've been told to buy white milk with the quarter, because mom and dad won't really know; it means having to go to mass one extra time a week; it means getting to be the first kid in the family to go to school; it means independence.

I can tell you that what kindergarten means to me is a little bit different. To me, it means dropping off that little baby that I have nursed through 10 days in the NICU and a tonsilectomy to be cared for by someone else; it means watching him walk through the doors to the school and realizing that I can't control what happens inside; it means that I can't make sure he eats all his lunch, or that he buys white milk instead of chocolate every day; it means that he's starting to figure out that there are girls to chase; it means that his little brother and I miss him all day; it means a big hug and a smile when I pick him up; it means that from here on out, he will be preparing to be independent; it means he's growing up. And you know what? I think his dad and I have every reason to be proud of the little big person he's becoming.