school daze

It's official.  

I'm no longer a new mom.  

My boy, Obi-1 Kenobi, is officially accepted and registered for pre-kindergarten.  

His birthday falls 5 days after the cutoff for this year's kindergarten.  Many a friend and relative have been surprised I won't challenge the rules and send him off early.  Yes, he's ready, but I'm not sure he'll be ready for high school when he's 13.  I'm not sure he'll be ready to travel or work or move into a dorm at 17.  I am sure that he's doing fine at home, and I'm in no hurry to rush him out the door to school right now.  

Had my labor lasted only a normal amount of time, I might have had to defend my decision differently. Funny how that week of contractions seems like a blessing now.

Still, registering for pre-k felt like a big step.  Walking into the local elementary school, where he'll go for preschool, made him (and I) feel pretty grown-up.  As we gazed at the art projects recently completed by current class, we both imagined what he might do next year.  The library down the hall and the playground behind the building were thrilling.  He even got to shake hands with his future teacher.  

And now, he can barely wait for summer to get over so he can be five years old and go to school. Every day, he wants to know how much closer he's come, and how long he must wait.  He's eyeing the next step with the excitement of a long-anticipated adventure.   All I want to do is feel the warmth of sunshine and play in the sprinklers, but he's ready for backpacks and carpooling schedules.

Happy first week of summer vacation.