Dear Ms. H,
On Friday, you will be given my baby for her first day of
Kindergarten. No, she is not my oldest, nor is she my youngest, but she is
still my baby. I am very distraught, and yet very hopeful about her new venture
into full-time school.
See, she’s different. She didn’t walk until she was 21
months old. My youngest is now that age and has been walking for 9 months. But
my baby, she let me carry her for a long time. She scooted on the floor instead
of even attempting to walk or stand. She is cautious. So careful. I think
that’s why she held off on walking. She wanted to be sure that from the first
step, she wouldn’t fall. And she didn’t.
She may or may not have started talking when she “should
have” either. I honestly can’t remember, because I’ve always just understood
her and her needs. If she was hungry, I knew. Believe me, I’m not saying I’m a
perfect parent. Far from it. I couldn’t tell you right now what my 21-month old
wants. Mostly she tells me “no” when I ask if she wants something. If she
really doesn’t want it, she’ll shriek “NOOOOO!” at you. So with her, it’s a
crapshoot.
Not with my kindergartener.
Sure, she had her toddler moments. But they have disappeared into a haze
of memory that has sanded off the rough edges of tempers and tantrums and left
me with a lot more sunshine and rainbows than actually happened.
Her entrance into preschool was surprisingly easy. Sure, I
still cried. But I was 8 months pregnant with my fourth, and more interested in
not developing reflux that day than having an emotional breakdown.
She made friends, one of them I pegged as the first friend
who will break my baby’s heart. The kind of girl that is too cool for most, and
I still recall the pumpkin patch field trip when my girl ended up on a
different tractor ride than that friend.
It was the moment. But she survived, and they still were “best friends”
in school. She still talked about that friend up until a few weeks ago, when I
think her haze of memory is only concerned with the new kindergarten friends
she’s made this summer.
She may not be a leader, but she knows how to be the boss.
She has an uncanny ability to get her older sister and brother to do almost
anything for her, even things she’s more than capable to do herself. Shit, she
still has this ability with me. She’s my baby. I want to do for her. But I do
want her to do for herself as well.
Please don’t let her tell you that she “can’t”. She can, she
should, and eventually, she will. She scares easily. Just last night she fell
asleep in the crook of my husband’ arm with her ears plugged by her little
index fingers because she was frightened by a loud thunderstorm.
She just learned to swim this summer. She screamed through
at least her first week of private lessons. Then only through half of the
lessons the second through fourth weeks. Then only when she was faced with
something terrifying – swimming in a depth where she couldn’t touch bottom. She
screamed for me at those times. I had to give her my reassurance that she was
fine, she could do it, it was okay to be scared, but it wasn’t okay not to try,
and in my head I admittedly was pleading with her to stop *(%&#)@ screaming
and just do it.
She never really did stop crying altogether for her
instructor, but about a week later, after her instructor went back to college
for the fall, she asked me to stand in the deep part where she couldn’t touch.
She WANTED to jump in and swim. And she did. Happily. And then she did it
again. And again. She’s swimming. Maybe it was her new fascination with Katie
Ledecky and Olympic Swimming. Maybe it
was her patient but firm swim instructor who didn’t give up. Or her brother and
sister who kicked ass their first summer on swim team. But I know the real
reason.
It was her. It finally clicked in her brain that she could
do it, and do it well. She had to know for herself that she wouldn’t drown, and
once she did, it’s as if the timid swimmer never existed.
I know you’ll be testing her in math and reading and she’ll
be getting mixed up in a classroom full of students and you won’t really get to
know her the way I do, but know that she’s one amazing person, who – eventually
– will know who she is, where she fits in and what she is capable of. And no
one will be able to convince her of her abilities until she masters them for
herself.
Take care of my baby.
