I drive my son to school every day and pick him up after school. This has been our ritual ever since kindergarten. He is now in the 6th grade and thinks he is big stuff. He enters junior high next year and my heart aches a little even as I am excited for him. Junior high is the world I know — the curriculum, the dynamics, the drama — all of this.
My son wants to ride the bus next year.
There are no real words to describe how sad it makes me feel to think I won’t be driving my son to and from school next year. And yet, I understand how it is time to let my son grow up. However, I will miss saying goodbye and seeing him blow me a kiss as he walks into school each day. Most of all, I will miss how we say goodbye to each other:
“I love you oodles and caboodles!” I say.
My boy answers, “And little snicker doodles!”
This has been our ritual every day since kindergarten. A habit I have treasured as a mother. My little boy, for all his desires to grow up, has always indulged me in our morning farewells. And so next year, if he decides to ride the bus, I know he will blow a kiss to me from the doorway and we will still say goodbye in the same way we always have.
But I really hope we still drive to school together.