I’ll admit it.
Judge me if you want, but I’d been looking forward to my daughter’s first day of kindergarten every since I got my first daycare bill.
A set of twin boys later, and kindergarten couldn’t come fast enough.
With one less kid in daycare, visions of trips to Paris and buying a summer home filled my mind. (Yes, I was delusional.)
Everything felt right.
We loved Isabel’s new school. We loved that she would wear a uniform, abolishing the need for any more morning fights over what she’d wear. And, did I mention, we loved that we’d now only be paying for daycare for two children and not three! (Minus the cost of after-school care and summer care, of course.)
Now, I’m not naive. I know no transition into “big girl world” would come without a few tears.
So Monday morning, I skipped the mascara. I took the day off work, giving myself plenty of time to remain at the school so I could dry her tears and pry her little hands from around my legs as she begged me not to leave.
But, shockingly, those tears and pleas never came.
Isabel was ecstatic to start school. She got out of bed without the typical prodding from her father and me. She squealed with delight over putting on her uniform and even allowed me to throw a couple hot curlers in her hair for the big day
She strolled into that school with a gleam of determination in her dark-brown eyes and a Minnie Mouse backpack strapped to her back.
When her father and I finally pried ourselves from her classroom, not a single tear fell from her eyes. Heck, she wasn’t even looking back at us as we left the room.
Walking away, I looked at my husband and sniffled once. “Don‘t even start,” he warned.
And just like that, my emotional break down was over. Well, at least until I got home.
As I compiled all the photographs and video I had shot that morning, the tears finally fell.
No one was around to see them. And by the time I’d picked Isabel up from her after-school program, they had long since dried.
After all, it’s hard to feel sad when your daughter proclaims her first day of school was “Super Duper Awesome:”
The only thing that trumps Super Duper Awesome is, of course, Super Duper Duper Awesome.
Thus far, that’s been reserved for pony rides.