Caroline started school today. And this morning, this child who has become another part of me over our 3 months of summer together--always with me-- is independent enough to eagerly jump from my car into the arms of her new teacher. We talked about the fact that her's is the oldest class in the school now, and that all of those little 2-year-olds would be looking up to her. That's funny, though, because it's hard for me not to imagine her as one of those 2-year-olds, picturing her like this:
So as my Baby Girl hopped out of the car, so ready to be that Big Girl, I couldn't help but cry a little as I drove off. From the backseat, Aly (who doesn't start until tomorrow) cautiously asked, "Mama, why are you doing that?" I laughed when I realized that I had an audience and said, "Well, the secret's out! I do this every year when y'all start school, but you aren't usually in the car to see it! Don't worry, though; it's a happy cry. I'm excited for y'all."
And that's true, I am of course excited. But it's also true that each first-day-of-school hurts my heart just a little bit.