Sometimes you have a such a lovely summer day, with so many of the elements of what you like about summer all in close succession. You wish the day would last longer. Or that you could relive it all tomorrow.
Yesterday was one of those days.
We started by watering our community garden plot and picking two cucumbers and nine red tomatoes, some of which we ate for lunch and dinner. My boys also picked and ate all the ripe cherry tomatoes, and then picked and ate all the nearly ripe cherry tomatoes. Our younger son even tried the totally green ones, only to discover that those are better left on the vine for now.
We splashed in the water for an hour or so at a regional park and dried off on their playground. My boys’ lean, bronzed bodies have never looked handsomer. As a mom, it’s a joy to watch them grow in confidence and stature. Relaxed by the water and tired from the sun, we hid indoors for the hottest part of the day.
After nap time/ quiet time/ writing time, my sister taught the boys a new game: library. They took turns being the librarian and checking out books with their pretend library cards. “Those are due in three minutes,” I overheard from the kitchen. I was glad for the chance to cook dinner without the whining or interruption of hungry boys. As a teacher, this sister of mine has a lot more free time in the summer, and it’s a blessing when she is around to entertain the boys. (She comes with a tote full of books as well as her own stories and ideas that engage kids.)
A bright pink sunset signaled the end of the day. When I went for my evening walk, two foxes scampered across the road in front of me. The second stopped for a moment. He stared at me and I stared back at him.
But today was for thinking about what’s ahead. This morning I took my older son to kindergarten registration. No reliving his preschool years – or trying to make them last a little longer. We’re moving on to a new era, an era where he’ll be speaking for himself and I won’t even be within ear shot. Once we entered the school a teacher whisked my son off to a classroom for a short assessment of school readiness. I stayed in the hallway to fill out a stack of papers.
I asked about the assessment afterward. “I answered all the questions,” he reported. “And if I didn’t know an answer, I said I didn’t know.” What sort of questions? For one, the teacher asked how high he could count, so he counted until she asked him to stop. “But I can count higher than that,” he said. “She said, ‘Good.'”
So he is capable of speaking for himself. It’s just this mom who’s got lots to learn about letting go.