Friday was Sarah’s first day of SK. I had dropped her off and was about a block away when I realized I had forgotten my keys at home and was locked out. Doh.
Mark was due to be home in a couple of hours. I spent a stretch of time at Bridgehead, then writing at the picnic table in my backyard.
I’ve read quite a few posts by teary moms about their kids first days at school. I was fine with Emma. She was fine. I was fine. I was fine with Sarah too. Everything was fine. Totally fine. There were no tears at all. I dropped them off and practically skipped off in the other direction.
But what did get to me was seeing them walk to a friend’s house for the first time.
Sure, they’ve crossed the road to the neighbor’s house, but this was different. They had to walk one block over (along a sidewalk) and then one block down (where there’s no sidewalk).
My immediate worries, in order of decending importance, were as follows:
- Will they remember their way there and back again?
- Will they remember to look before crossing the street?
- Will they remember not to talk to strangers?
They walked away, hand in hand. They were so excited. To them, it was a huge adventure. And I was excited for them. But I felt wistful as well. Can it be true? That our girls are old enough to set out on their own? I was determined not to sneak across the front lawn and watch them, but then I changed my mind. I ran out to the sidewalk and peered down the street. They were gone.
