Last Thursday marked the end of yet another school year for Davey. When I woke him on Thursday morning to dress him for his last day, I asked him what he thought about it.

“I’m not so sure about this, Mommy.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“I’m just not so sure I want to leave Mrs. Norwood and Mrs. Whaling,” he replied. Mrs. Norwood and Mrs. Whaling were his school teachers this year and what a wonderful blessing they’ve been not only to him but also to me. To say I was sad about his last day was a bit of an understatement.

Thoughts began to swirl around my head, bumping into and shoving each other. It’s his last day, one thought exclaimed, while another reminded me that I would now have the ability to attend that class at the Y I’ve always wanted. Of course that thought bumped into the one that said I should feel guilty about selfishly looking forward to said class. And there was yet another thought that crashed down hard on all the others that said, “he’s not going to be your baby for much longer.” Yeah, that thought pretty much obliterated all the others.

I dropped him off that morning, being sure to take the obligatory “last day of school” pictures so that I could do what all other moms in the social media age do…OVERSHARE. He smiled happily, even waving and telling me to have a great day. I drove off to take care of my errands since I would soon hightail it back to participate in his class party, and what a treat that was.

My child is apparently loved by all. I’m sure every parent says that, but when his teacher informed me that her high school daughter would come in on her days out of school just to spend time with Davey, that warmed my heart. People genuinely love my child. Who couldn’t?

I suppose what conflicted me the most about his last day of school was to see how well he interacted with his classmates. I was impressed with his ability to share and play happily. I was in awe over the fact that his teachers didn’t need to tell him multiple times to sit down, criss cross apple sauce. No, they just did it once, and he would sit obediently during the entire story time on the mat. But all of this saddened me as well. He wouldn’t have these children to interact with again, at least not until next year. Would he be able to sit quietly for me? Would I be able to maintain some level of learning for him during the summer months? These teachers and children did so much for him, for me. I don’t want to fail any of them, least of all my son.

And so now, the dog days of summer are officially here. I’m in planning mode to make sure that Davey continues to learn, continues to be stimulated, and doesn’t get bored. My mind is already exhausted with all of the planning and all of the possibilities.

I’ve always had a bit of a love/hate relationship with change. In theory, I like the idea of it, but when confronted with it in reality, it’s a bit intimidating to me. My son; however, is either too young to understand the change, or he’s much more capable of going with the flow than I. We’ll see as the summer progresses. And truthfully, I’m already on a countdown for next school year!

Happy Summer, y’all!