I knew this day was going to come. From the moment I held him in my arms I knew his dependence on me wouldn't last
All the while I will remember him on that cold November day when we were first introduced. My first child. My sweet, sensitive boy. The one who so seeks my love, affection and approval. The child whom I understand the best because he's so much like me. This pure and beautiful soul who looks at me with his sweet eyes and tells me, "Mommy, I love you. You're my best friend," is growing and as the years trudge on so will the both of us.
Sure there are small annoyances during the day:
"Mom! Come wipe my butt!"
"Mommy, can I play on PBS Kids?"
"Can I have a snack? No! I don't want fruit or vegetables I want a snack!"
I have been waiting for this. I've been waiting for a little more time to myself; time to become productive again without having the constant chatter of a little boy who hates for the world around him to be quiet. I have, admittedly, been looking forward to this day and yet here I am, the eve of this monumental day, writing through tear soaked lashes.
Tomorrow we'll embark on another first and we'll enter a new phase of life. It must happen; it's not easy but then again nothing ever is.and then it's off to school. Okay so it's only preschool and I know I shouldn't be getting myself all worked up over this but I'm finding myself at the brink of letting my child grow up. As much as I know it's a necessary step, as good as I know it will be for him, it doesn't make it easier. Moments flash of every first I've witnessed, every tear I've comforted and wiped away, every moment of frustration and every moment of pure joy.