first day

Their new backpacks and lunchboxes sit by the door, waiting. “Is it time to go?" Twin B. asks.

“Almost.” I tell him.

I think of all the long days of parenting two babies, then two toddlers, then two preschoolers. How many times did I wish for this day? I wonder. And now it’s here—the first day of first grade—and I can’t believe it.

Twin B. walks ahead with his dad and baby b. while Twin A. and I walk behind them, talking.

“Where do I hang my backpack again?” he asks.

“On the hook with your name,” I tell him.

I watch as he struggles with the straps on his backpack. “This is heavy,” he tells me.

“I know, A. You’re doing a good job with it.” I want to reach over and take the backpack from him, carry it for awhile, but hold myself back. It’s not the right thing for my boy. He needs to carry his own pack.

Pictures and hugs and smiles as they join their friends in line, eager for this new year.

I bake a pan of brownies after lunch, hoping to make this cute pencil cake, but the brownies break around the middle, leaving a gooey mess of brownie stuck to the pan.

No cute cake to greet the noisy boy after school, just more hugs and smiles and a listening ear. Gooey brownies eaten from the pan will be fine, I think, adjusting my expectations.

It is what it is, right? The noisy boys would have gotten a kick out of the cake, but a brownie is a brownie—always a good thing!

Edited to add: The noisy boys had a great first day of school and the brownies were a big hit. Yay!