Community//

An Open Letter to My New Kindergartener

From a mom who's not quite ready

Image courtesy of Flickr

It can’t be that time already, can it, kiddo?

Yesterday I held you in my arms, feeling prouder that I have ever felt. Yesterday, you couldn’t reach the cereal box.

Yesterday, you were still my baby.

But tomorrow the world will call you a kid. People will try to shape and mold you into the person they think is best. Tomorrow, you start school.

And you couldn’t more excited.

When you were a toddler I used to imagine you walking away, backpack bouncing, and think how cute you’d be. I knew you’d thrive.

But now, I can’t imagine letting you go.

You’re too small.

Too full of energy, and life.

Too full of play.

And too ready to go.

I realize this is what’s best for you, so I will send you off wearing your green dinosaur backpack and smile, tears streaming down my cheeks.

But I need you to know a few things as you start this new road.

 

You Are Amazing

You, little man, are an incredible person. I love how you want to be an astronaut engineer, can play with Legos from morning till night, or unscrew all your toys with a single screwdriver.

You have a fantastic mouth that motors on with dreams and thoughts from your heart. You care, and feel everything deeply.

Please still be you.

You will meet people who will try to change these neat things about you, whether with good or bad intentions, but stick to yourself. Keep your stubborn mind and use it for good.

Yet change. Grow. Mature.

But in your own way. I will be here to help.

 

No One’s Perfect

Know this, too. I am NOT perfect.

Oh, how I wish I was. But I yell, get upset, cry and probably spend too much time reading.

And I will always feel bad for every misstep.

But you are not perfect either. Like every kid you’ve had your tantrums and moments of stubborn refusal of bath time.

Though, I will never feel bad for your mistakes.

But we have had our good days, too. Making dinners with you being my little helper and taste taster. Watching you wash the dishes with way too many bubbles. That first moment when you held your baby sister, with your caring eyes and gentle, dimpled fingers.

And here’s the big thing.

You will make mistakes as you grow.

And, unfortunately, so will I.

But I will ALWAYS love you. So much it aches.

I will give you those kisses you love, hugga muggas, and tight hugs until the day you tell me no. (And maybe sneak some in after.) I will check on you while you sleep, and kiss the bridge of your nose.

And I will be there through your blunders and triumphs for as long as I can. To teach and help you.

To be your Mom.

 

Looking Forward

It’s your first school night. Soon you will walk through those white doors to a new life.

And as you do I ask you one last thing.

Look forward to each day. To each assignment and keep the joy of learning.  Keep your bright, stubborn energy, and faithful heart. Have fun.

And always be as excited for each day as you are for tomorrow.

I’ll be here when you get home.

The Thrive Global Community welcomes voices from many spheres. We publish pieces written by outside contributors with a wide range of opinions, which don’t necessarily reflect our own. Learn more or join us as a community member!
Share your comments below. Please read our commenting guidelines before posting. If you have a concern about a comment, report it here.

Sign up for the Thrive Global newsletter

Will be used in accordance with our privacy policy.

Thrive Global
People look for retreats for themselves, in the country, by the coast, or in the hills . . . There is nowhere that a person can find a more peaceful and trouble-free retreat than in his own mind. . . . So constantly give yourself this retreat, and renew yourself.

- MARCUS AURELIUS

We use cookies on our site to give you the best experience possible. By continuing to browse the site, you agree to this use. For more information on how we use cookies, see our Privacy Policy.