Yesterday was my daughter’s first day of first grade.
One year ago, she held tightly on to my leg, begging me to not let her go. Not to leave her as she entered a new school, new classroom, new teacher and a new life.
I tried not to cry as I peeled her off of me and let her teacher walk her inside.
I felt broken. Like a failure.
I tried to do all the things to prepare her for Kindergarten. We read the books, we played pretend games about school, we even went for a classroom visit.
But what I learned afterwards was that it didn’t matter. It was totally and completely normal for her to feel petrified. Heck, I was petrified too.
So when the first day of first grade came yesterday, I wasn’t sure what to expect. Just as the year before, she was giddy on the walk there. She wore her favorite new outfit, proudly showed off her favorite new hairdo, and twirled to show her new Wonder Woman backpack. (side note: how freakin’ cool is that??? A Wonder Woman backpack!!)
And when we got to the front doors of the school, I braced myself for what would come next. I had tissues in my pocket, a lollipop as bribery for later, and a note I would slip into her hands if needed.
But it wasn’t tears that I saw, it was a smile. A big, huge smile that showed that empty adorable spot where she lost her first tooth weeks before.
We kissed, hugged and high-fived. Then she was gone.
Just like that.
In one year she grew a little bit taller, a little bit wiser, and whole lot more happy. Actually, I think we both did. Okay, maybe not the taller part for me but you know, the other stuff…
