To my big boy

Today you graduated from preschool. When you were three, I brought you to your first day at that adorable little red schoolhouse, fully prepared to hang around just in case you weren't ready to let me go. Within minutes, you played at a table with your teachers and other kids, looked up at me and said, "See you later, mommy." That was it. You were ready to let me go.

I was not.

I sat in the car and cried.

In the last two years I've watched you grow from a toddler to a sweet, smart young boy. You started preschool learning your letters and ended it starting to read. You started counting to twenty and ended doing addition and math problems. For fun. You started school with a group of children you had never met and ended up having so many friends and birthday parties and playdates my head spins. You started school singing the alphabet and ended up knowing all the words to Neil Diamond's "America," which you performed brilliantly today.


Sure, I cried today. Because I could not be more proud of you, my little guy. And, well, that hat is just killer.