christybassadams

(In honor of school starting back, I am reposting this blog from 2015 when Carter began school for the first time. He begins 2nd grade Monday! Can you believe it? Time slow down.)

I just stood there as the door closed behind me. Honestly I felt a little lost. For four years we have done life together. We have experienced every new thing side by side. I was there for his first word and first step. We have spent countless hours together learning how to master the potty. I got to watch him eat ice cream for the first time and go to his first movie. I almost had a heart attack the first time I saw him digging a hole BY HIMSELF on David’s excavator. We have read books, baked cookies, built forts, dug for dinosaur bones, and chased chickens. We flew together to Alaska twice and drove to Camp Livingstone in TN as a family. I was there his first Sunday of “big boy class” at church and watched him thrive in Cubbies on Wednesday nights. I have entertained endless questions and never-ending conversations about trains, tractors, and trucks. We have done almost every day together since he was born.

Until yesterday.

Yesterday I watched him excitedly waltz into his new classroom. He never whined or cried; he kissed me goodbye, sat down in his seat, and started playing with the kids. I had to fight the urge to sit down and set up camp. I so wanted to be a fly on the wall and watch him soak in all the newness of this giant first in his life. But deep down I knew he needed to do it alone. So, I looked over my shoulder one last time…

Then I left my Heart in room 418.

Don’t get me wrong, I am glad he felt so at home; but part of me wanted him to need me a little more, just a little longer. I kept waiting on the call that he was crying uncontrollably for Mama, but it never came. He did fine without me and was just as excited to go back and do it all again today.

Even as I write this, the tears that I experienced all day yesterday just keep coming. Even though I have known this day was coming, and I have intentionally prepared him to be ready, I never imagined how hard it would be. We snuggled for about an hour last night and he told me everything about his day. He lit up as he shared about coloring shapes and playing with all his new friends. He excitedly threw his hands up as he described the slides and other outside and inside toys. He sang one of the new songs he learned and leaned close as he told me he even got to dance. “F has two little lines and a big one,” he told me, “and a P has a big line and a curve. Then there’s that letter that goes up and down and up and down and makes that mmm sound.” His face danced with joy as he talked on and on about everything he learned and did. He was even excited that he got to lay down with all his friends and take a nap!

Last night David and I cried like babies as we were saddened that our little boy is growing up but also relieved that his first day of school was such a great experience. Who knew that being on this side of school was the hardest part!

Everything was made right, though, as I stood at the gate and waited for my little man. As his class rounded the corner, my gaze met his, and without missing a beat, he came running to meet me. I wrapped my arms around him and held on tightly.

My Heart made it home.

“Mama, how does Mickey Mouse pee?” I tried to stifle the laughter. Where in the world did THAT come from?

“Well, I suppose he has an outhouse behind the clubhouse.” All of us laughed and began coming up with funny places that Mickey Mouse might use the bathroom or how he could even make it happen.

I could have shrugged the question off. I could have made a funny comment and that was it. But I didn’t.

I chose engagement.

I chose to challenge his busy little mind with more questions that would give him something to think about. I chose to joke and laugh along with him. I chose to think like a seven year old who likes to watch Mickey Mouse and help him on this wild little question journey. We spun out puns and laughed at our ridiculousness. And we bonded.

So when the more serious questions come, like today, my son knows that Mama will talk to him. When he asks me how to get to heaven so he will get to see Uncle Arnold one day, he knows I will engage with him. And when he asks about sin and Jesus and salvation, he knows it’s safe and we will explore the topic together.

The silly, the serious,and all in between. We need to engage. We need to slow down enough to foster growth in the lives of our children. They need to know they are valuable, important and loved. Just because it’s silly to us doesn’t mean that it’s silly to them. Well, it might be; but what a great time to laugh together with our kids.

We still don’t know where or how Mickey Mouse pees, but my son knows Mama cares. He knows that he is heard. And he knows he is valued.

Take time to engage. Life is never too busy to stop and talk with our kids. We might even learn a thing or two.