“One, two, three, eyes on me!” My chatty fashionista is suddenly silent.
Interesting. This never happens at home, no matter what comes out of my mouth and at what volume.
It is the first day of school. A day when kids accessorize their mohawks, fauxhawks, Justin Biebers and Taylor Swift ringlets with crisp new clothes, backpacks and notes on summer vacations, who grew the most and who thinks who is cute. A day when parents beam, watching their brightly polished children through tear-filled eyes and wishing they could stop time before they are watching them drive off to college. The day after the day when both kids and parents are united by one simple thought.
Summer vacation can’t end fast enough.
The last day of the school year is not the last day of school. It is an entire week before the last day. Classrooms are cleared and backpacks are sent home with a year’s worth of forgotten artwork, worn pencils and tattered folders. From that point forward the hourglass begins. At first, the days pass lazily by. But the sands of time are fickle and lazy days vanish in the late summer heat. Somewhere in between casting aside old book bags and choosing new ones, close quarters leave parents and children hot under the collar until you are finally standing on the threshold.
Of a new year. New classrooms. New friendships. New teachers.
My daughter has waited for this moment all summer long. She picked her first outfit, packed her outfit and planned how the first day would unfold weeks ago. Standing here watching her, her shy smile at odds with the impish light in her eyes, I wonder what she will discover today. As I blow her a kiss and she waves me away, I can’t help but wonder.
Should I bring red or white to the parent-teacher conference?
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