I had no idea when this season of childhood would hit, or what form it would take in my own home.
Then, Jacob started kindergarten.
And we have unicorns with pink bodies and a golden horn. Page after page of a city skyline. Cars and trucks. Letters and numbers. Sight words and "is" spelled as "iz." The English language written through the sounds of a five-year-old.
I actually have to ask my kid to stop coloring and drawing and come to dinner.
An entire composition notebook is almost filled with entire pages that contain works of art I wish I could remember forever.
I will definitely always remember his determination to get his picture just right. The fascination with the way his pictures tell a story and the happiness on his face when I know what his picture is without having to ask.
I will remember him smiling as he brings me the notebook. Smiling as he opens up his imagination to me, trusting that all is safe and I will love whatever I see. I will remember his spirit, and the rose-colored glasses he is able to see the world.
Pages with rainbows and stories about snakes.
A spy helicopter and a passenger airplane with landing gear that reaches the entire length of the page.
People who are developing beyond stick figures and starting to actually have pants, shirts, shoes, and all five fingers.
Kindergarten has brought out little stories from my little boy. Stories he didn't even know were there until he was able to draw them across the paper and let his mind wander. A teacher who is able to get him to ask me if his drawings are his "best work."
We are only a month into this "real school" business, and he is soaking up every last drop of education and finishing his homework on Monday night when it's not due until Friday.
He is reading words and writing sentences. He is telling me about periods and question marks. Jacob asks thoughtful questions about why the Earth doesn't float off into outer space before we pull out of the driveway in the morning. He's asking me to look for certain books at the library.
He collects acorns on the playground and places them in the kitchen window. He picks me flowers and saves them the whole day until he gets home and gives them to me.
He forgets his library book at school and his lunch box in the cafeteria. But, he never forgets to say "I love you," before getting out of the car, or waving good-bye as I drive off in the morning.
Jacob's love for kindergarten will result in quite the paper consumption this year. I cannot wait to see what he is going to be bringing home toward the end of the year, and how much his work will change in nine short months. But, I always will remember these first moments of school and the excitement that fills our house at this very moment. Excitement about everything, and the desire to reproduce our fascinating world on paper through our own eyes and ears.
Kindergarten is magical.
