Movin' on.

His bag is packed. He might as well be moving out. He's moving on. Bigger and better, Mama. He's got things to do, you know.

His bag isn't full of the usual fare: no, he's got a juice cup marked with his name (it's red); a pair of indoor shoes with new personalized name labels pressed neatly in the soles; and an emergency outfit of pants, shirt, socks and a pull-up should the rigors of preschool be a bit too overwhelming at any point. He's as ready as they come.

I wish I could say the same for me. As I was writing the post-dated cheques, I saw all the months passing me by: January to June. Six of them. That's a lot of time away. In an environment I have no control over. Oh, sure, I know he'll be fine. He'll flourish. (Or at least that's what I'm telling myself to justify his enrollment.) But this is it. The end of Natty purely as having a sense of self and belonging in his family here at home. The end of an era, albeit a short one. But a great one that I have loved with a passion.

This is the end of Dan and I being the sole care-givers to our little boy. For 1278 days, I have watched him learn all the important milestones: how to roll over, crawl, cruise and then walk, jump and run; how to eat (and mighty well for a small person!); how to learn how to sleep properly, to function on a routine; how he found joy in finding his hands, his body, his capabilities; to watch himself begin to establish who he is and to be able to communicate it to the rest of us, who for so long have been trying to tell him who we thought he was; to watch the light bulb go off in his eyes when learning something new or enjoying a great story or joke; to watch his developing sense of self-esteem, especially when mastering potty-training, saying something thoughtful to someone else, or doing someone a favour since he knows that they'll appreciate it.

He is a force to be reckoned with, my boy. I just hope that those who work with him will see that too--will see his sense of wonder and excitement over the simplest things. Will know to push him to the best of his ability; but not too hard please, he's just a little person who needs so much patience, encouragement and understanding. Who will listen to the kind, generous, funny, observant, questioning little words that come out of his mouth. Will see him like I do. Which is entirely impossible. They are incapable of this viewpoint as they are not his mother.

So, Nathaniel, as you bounce off to preschool in the morning (or pretty-school, as you have deemed it), I wish for you so many things. I wish that you have fun; that you find a sense of belonging and purpose within the group; that you enjoy the activities, and are challenged as well. I wish you to make friends, to play nicely, to share and use kind words like you've been taught; and I wish for those friends to do the same in kind to you. I wish that you further nurture a love of knowledge, that you will continue to develop it for many years to come.

But mostly I wish that you could stay my baby forever, and that I could protect you from all the cruelties and unpleasantness that life has to offer, that I could continue to watch you blossom and flourish right here. But that would be selfish of me. And I want the world for you. So, although it is just preschool, the world awaits you, my special little boy. Go out there, stand tall, stick to what you believe and were taught, yet question what you need to, and play hard. I am so proud of the polite little gentleman that you have become thus far in life, and I'm so proud to support and guide you as you develop into who you are going to be.

I love you, my Natty-bum.

Mama.
xo