Dear Adeleigh,
Five years ago today, we welcomed you into this world. Today, we sent you off on a journey to change it. You started Kindergarten today, on your 5th Birthday, and we are so proud of you. I secretly (and selfishly) wanted to keep you with me all day, but I knew you were ready for something new.
For months, we'd been preparing you for this day. And you have been so excited all summer long for it to arrive. Excited for new friends, a great teacher, a new backpack and lunchbox. Excited that you were assigned the classroom with the puppet stage in it. Excited to be five! This morning, you woke with that contagious smile on your face, to floors and walls filled with balloons and ribbon. You dressed and got ready without any reminders. You buckled yourself into your carseat before I had to ask - your carseat, which you've grown with and buckled in and out of countless times since you were one. You said to me as we drove, "Mommy. I won't be able to play with Atticus today."
"Yes. But that's okay." I replied.
"Yeah, Mommy. That's okay. Because I will play with new friends today. And Atticus will play with you."
My heart melted. We parked the car. I ugly-cried while I held your hand the whole walk up to your classroom - your classroom, which is smack-dab in the middle back of the school. So every single parent and child waiting in line outside potentially saw your mess of a mom. I looked around at other parent's faces, expecting to see a whole city of tears and Kleenex, but everyone else was smart enough to wear their sunglasses. As we approached your classroom, I could see for the first time, your nerves overpower your excitement. And I clung onto your hand tighter. So tight, that when your teacher opened the classroom door and welcomed the kids inside, I wasn't fast enough to let go. In the bustle of first day jitters and craziness, the door closed and you remained by my side.
I turned to your Daddy and he laughed. Oops. We stood there with a few other confused parents, wondering if we should just turn around and go home because we missed our chance to send you off to school. Instead, I knocked on the door. Your teacher opened it again, smiled, greeted you as we gave you hugs and kisses, and inside you went - all 5 years of you - with your new friends, your great teacher, your backpack, lunchbox and puppet stage. Then the door closed.
Atticus cried as he watched his favorite play-mate go. I cried the walk back to the car while Daddy held my hand that had been holding yours. I cried the entire drive home. It took every fiber of my being to not call your classroom every few hours and check in, the way I used to do when you were in daycare. Instead, I called the school a few times to ask random questions of the front desk lady. It was my way of checking in, relieving a bit of my own first-day jitters.
We know you are in good hands, Adeleigh. And we know that you are ready for this. You are strong, and capable, and adaptable. And you make friends everywhere you go. You'll do great! And we'll look forward to seeing that smile of yours at the end of each day.
Go change this world, Adeleigh Rose. In your 5 years, you've already monumentally changed ours.
We love you. And Happy Birthday!
Love,
Mommy, Daddy & Atticus
That smile running towards us at the end of Day 1
