The Bookbag

Surgically, Big Daddy and I are done having kids. It was a decision I have never regretted. In saying that, I don't think I really thought about the reality that our last little offspring would grow up someday. That day is getting closer and closer by the minute. 

Little Nutt has had speech therapy since he was 19 months old. Until very recently, he was difficult to understand so as he was turning 3, his IEP changed to include 2 weekly half-days of preschool. At a real preschool. And he will be riding in a van to get to school. And it's not Mommy behind the wheel.

I always knew this day would come and I always worried about how he would react. The advice given to me was to get him excited and tell him what a big boy he has become. Maybe even buy him a bookbag like his older brother and sister use. Easier said than done.

Today I found myself in the school supply aisle at our local Walmart as my toddler (the same one that celebrated his third birthday yesterday) paced back and forth in front of the towering wall of bookbags. He pointed to Spiderman (By-Man) and Dora (his favorite show), but finally decided on a blue backpack with Cookie Monster (Nom Nom) on it. Not only did he choose it, he insisted on wearing it to the register.

As he began his big boy march to pay for his newly acquired treasure, an older woman that had been standing in the aisle asked me how old he was. I told her and she said that she could still remember buying her youngest his first backpack. It had He-Man on it. I asked her how old he was, to which she replied, "31." The same age as me. She told me about how she cried all day until he came bounding off the bus, telling her about how much he loved school. She cried some more that night and throughout the next few days because she knew it was time to start letting go.

As I stood there with tears running down my face, I knew that was the reason I have always despised school shopping. It isn't the hassle or the cost; it is knowing that I am one year closer to having to let them go out into the world on their own. Evel used to snuggle on the couch and watch movies with me, but he is now a teenager that thinks it is embarrassing to be seen in public with me (even though I am awesome). It seems like only a year or two ago I was helping him pick out his first backpack: a light blue with no characters on it because that stuff was for little kids. I patched the bottom of it countless times because it was too big for him to wear so he drug it along behind him until the gravel finally shredded it, leaving a trail of pencils and bubble gum balls in his wake. I thanked the Heavens above when it was finally time to toss that old thing, but today I found myself wishing I still had it so I could look at it and remember him as a kid.

Evel was so brave, and I am sure Nutt will be the same. I think I am the one who needs a crash course on survivng preschool. So for the next week, I will enjoy watching my littlest man run around with his Nom Nom backpack as he calls himself Dora and try to remind myself that this is not the end of his childhood, but the beginning of his (and of his mommy's) independence. I should have bought stock in Kleenex for this one.