You graduated from preschool last week. It was a very low-key ceremony (thank you, co-op!) followed by an ice cream social. (A term that I’d never heard in real life until moving to Chicago, so it still seems downright quaint and small-town to me.)
My sweet little guy, you have changed so dramatically in the past year and I’m very proud of you. You have become so confident and sure of yourself that sometimes I hardly recognize you. Not so long ago, you were still clinging to me, refusing to go in a friend’s car or to someone’s house without me. By comparison, just two days ago you happily ran off with Baxter in the morning to join in the carpool down to the big kids’ school, chatting all the way with the dad who was driving, and then once there were handed off to another friend’s mom who took you home to play with her son for the next four hours so that I could attend a meeting. Furthermore, you went with that mom to a little backyard party at the home of one of your school friends, and when I met you there about 20 minutes into it, you were so happily engaged with your friends that you merely glanced at me with a little grin and kept playing. I had to go get you to say hello and demand a kiss about 15 minutes after I arrived!
You are so ready for kindergarten. You were recently described by another mom as being “so calm and centered”. “We could all be a little more like Lyle,” she told me. You’ve become quite popular with your peers lately and have two girls who are reportedly “in love” with you. You are very matter-of-fact on this last point. I happen to think they have very good taste.
You’re reading quite fluently and asking a million interesting questions a day. Your teachers will be lucky to have you, sweetie. As you like to tell me every day, you are no longer a “little” kid, but rather a “little big kid”.
I’m looking forward to a wonderful summer with you before you head off to kindergarten! Congratulations.