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Today was Phoebe’s last day of preschool, ever.

This year Phoebe learned how to write all her letters, how to spell both of her names and “I love you.” She knows that Saturn is a cold planet and that the ocean water is salty (which can help you float), that “rojo” means “red” in Spanish, and that ten plus one equals eleven. She was friends with every single girl in her class (except the mean one who left at Christmastime, but even then, Phoebe was the only girl the mean girl didn’t hit at least once).

She’ll start kindergarten in August, and she’s completely ready – but I’m not ready to send her. She has so much fun just being a little kid – singing her crazy songs, tending to her “babies,” drawing her pictures, making up her stories. The thought of her sitting at a desk for six hours a day makes me sad. She’ll be fine, I know, and I know I’ll be fine too; I know once August comes around I’ll be more than ready to get her out of the house. But for now…I’m just wishing she didn’t have to grow up. I like her just the way she is, right now.

(End-of-year recital tonight; retrospective pictures tomorrow.)


Karen said…
I think that it is harder to send your "baby" to school - or on to another step in life than it is your older child(ren).

And you will be fine. She will be fine, too, but it is hard to believe that my youngest grandchild will be in real school!
Chris said…
Seconded: As much as I want her to grow up, there's a big part of me that wants her to stay all adorable and innocent and sing-songy. I love talking to her and getting weird, off the wall answers to questions, making her laugh, and being silly. I hate that some days I'm too busy or just to tired to fully appreciate the way she is another few years, I'll wish I could have these days back again. Eh, now I'm depressing myself.
aimee said…
She's our baby. So sniff, I feel depressed now too.

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