To my sweet girl on her first day of preschool -
It's here. I'm in denial that this is the last year before actual school. I counted on this year as the padding for my soul when you went to the 3s class last year; we had forever until the day I sent you to kindergarten. Now we're right in the midst of that last year and I'm sort of wobbly on the stilts of denial.
While the future of schooling remains unknown (a discussion for another day), I am certain about the things I want you to know.
I don't care if you read before your peers, I don't care if you are the smartest in the class or not, and I don't care if you come home with a laundry list of the new knowledge that makes you a genius.
I don't care if you are the best-dressed kid (and we know that's saying a lot coming from Little Miss Shopping Problem), and I won't care when you come home with holes in your clothes and mud scuffs on your shoes. A day well spent in the life of a preschooler.
Do you know what I do care about?
And your laughter.
And your compassion for others and their happiness.
Motherhood, and in turn--childhood, is such a race these days. I cherish every moment that you wear bows, ask to work on puzzles, and read books. The way your biggest concerns are which color of play doh is best for your princess decorating, or what your doll's name should be, or what option to decide on for breakfast.
Your sparkly blue eyes that question everything. The way you pretend to control the car from the backseat, and make up stories as you flip through books. The way your imagination drags you through life at an impressive speed; you never stopping to question its validity.
Nearly five, and I want to bottle up the naivety and savor it forever.
But most of all, I want you to learn one thing at school: how to show every single person love. Always.
You have a beautiful little soul, bigger than your smile, and impossible not to love. I know you're spreading those wings and will fly high, little bird. You are destined to do great things.