Twin A. walks out of the building carrying his school bag and a huge envelope full of art projects. “Hey A!” I call from our meeting place by the flagpole. “How was the last day?” I ask.
“Good.” He says. “I got a lot of stuff to bring home.”
“I can’t wait to see it all.”
“And kind of sad too,” he continues.
Twin B. marches out proudly just then. “Hey Mom!” He says, giving me a quick hug. “Hey A. We had popsicles today.”
“Me too!” A. says. “Can we play?” he looks over at me.
“Of course. For a few minutes,” I tell them.
And so Kindergarten is over, just like that.
Later that night, we ride our bikes to the pizza place near our house and have dinner, then ice cream, and talk about our favorite things in Kindergarten: friends, playing, great teachers, writing workshop, gym.
We take the long way home, winding our bikes down the path by the river. A family of ducks sits at the edge, a Mama, Daddy, and three babies. The grown-up ducks quickly stand in front of their babies when they see us coming, hissing as we ride by.
I wonder at the parenting habits of ducks. When do they let their babies go? Do they do it all at once, or do they let go little by little, the way we do?
The noisy boys are pedaling as fast as they can on the trail. “Woo hoo!” Twin A. yells. “This is so beautiful!”
I couldn’t agree more.