Today was kindergarten graduation and, like most transitions, was a mixture of joy and sadness. The little boy who holds my hand in the grocery store is now a first-grader, barreling straight towards sixth grade and then 11th grade practically next week. Grayson woke up early, anxious to know the exact moment when he would become a first-grader. "Now? Now am I a first-grader? When I leave for school, then am I a first-grader? How about after the bell rings?"
Part of my melancholy stems from our bedtime conversation last night, when he admitted to being worried about not knowing how to ask a girl to marry him, and especially worried that his lack of knowledge in this area would mean loosing the woman of his dreams to another, more educated, fellow. Sob.
But just when I think he's on the verge of being grown-up, he'll spin some sort of tale that puts age 5 1/2 in perspective. Like this morning, when we were discussing the shortest girl in his class. I reminded Grayson that she's still growing and won't always be short, when he said, "Nah uh, Mom. She goes all the way to the bottom. I checked."
While I'm so proud of all the changes and growth over this past kindergarten year (celebrated at a beach bonfire last night with 45 friends!), I am thankful for these glimpses of my little Gray-Gray and his childish perspective that makes my world a more colorful place.
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