The Little-Foreman-in-pink starts Kindergarten this fall.
She is the last one I have at home.
She will be my last my "First Day" of school.
She will be the last one to color pretty pictures for the refrigerator using those fat brightly colored crayons.
She will be the last one filled with entirely too much excitement over her new back pack and shiny school supplies.
She will be the last one to possibly shed a tear as I leave her in the classroom.
Who am I kidding?!?
The only one with a tear in her eye that day will be me!
I knew, when she was born, that she would be my last baby....
With My first baby, I worked with him and encouraged him to walk early, talk early, learn his colors early, read a story early, I wanted him to reach each milestone as early and as perfectly as possible.
We joined play-groups and Gymboree to make sure he was socialized properly.
There were swimming lessons, Sunday School, and even an exclusive Pre-School.
With my following babies, I wanted him to match or beat the record his brothers had previously set.
They all started school with a running start.
I knew they were 100% ready.
They did well.
Then we moved out to the country.
And SHE arrived.
She came barreling into our lives with as much spunk as her tiny 5.5 lb body could possibly muster.
With her, it was different.
Not because she was our only girl.
Not because she was born in the country.
Not because 4 boys had turned her once sharp-as-a-tack mother into a mumbling pile of goo.
She was different because I knew she would be my last baby.
I wanted to saver every baby moment.
I wanted to inhale her babyness and hold onto its scent forever.
I wanted every coo and squeak to be permanently etched into my soul, never to be forgotten.
I never want those memories to fade.
I let her set the pace.
I didn't push her to walk early
(though she did it anyway!)I didn't push her to talk early
(although she started THAT early too!)There has been no Gymboree, no exclusive pre-school.
No "Hooked On Phonics".
Instead, there has been a farm, four brothers, and lots of love.
This, in itself, is not a bad thing.
BUT, I'm afraid I've set her up for a harder time in school.
She is extremely smart.
But, instead of reading books, she can weed the garden without picking the tender vegetable plants.
Instead of knowing math, she can collect, count, sort, and clean eggs.
Instead of knowing and understanding the politics of socialization, she can comfort and calm ANY animal.
With her brothers, I worked very hard on their verbal skills.
When their little mouths had trouble pronouncing a word correctly, we worked on it to get it right.
With Her?
We have fallen in love with her way of pronouncing things.
In fact, we usually say it wrong too!
We no longer have a refrigerator in our house...
We have a
Frigider.
We don't love ballons...
we have
Bwoons.
We don't eat shrimp..
We enjoy
Chrump.
Our sun isn't yellow...
Our sun is
Yah-doh.
These things will be easy to fix, I know.
But You have to understand...
This exceptionally cute little red-head has been raised with 4, count 'em,
FOUR big brothers.
This means she doesn't take smack from anyone!
She knows how to handle herself.
She will stand up and fight if needed.
On that first day of school, I have a sickening feeling that when that first kid laughs at her for calling a crayon Yah-Doh, I will get my first call from the principal to meet with him because my sweet 5 yr old girl just broke some mean boys nose!
Lord Help Us All...
It's gonna be a bumpy ride!
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Like melted glass in your burn-pile.
Or some pine needles.
Like melted glass in your burn-pile.
Or some pine needles.
