The past week has been all about getting ready to go back to school.  School supplies, new backpacks, haircuts, orthodontist appointments, clothes—it's so time consuming.  We've also crammed a few trips to the beach in for good measure.  The last days of summer should at least feel like summer. 

We've made several trips to the middle school for my daughter to master opening her temperamental locker. I swore at it under my breath a few times, hateful thing. The first day it would open periodically when it felt like it, in spite of going through the combination correctly.  I bought some WD-40 and sprayed the lock until it looked like the BP oil spill was happening in her locker.  She decorated it, hung her disco ball, and we walked around to get a sense of where her classes would be. 

She met her homeroom teacher and her science and social studies teachers, who made a point of saying hello when they saw us wandering the halls.

It all helped to add to her excitement about next week.   She managed to open her locker 10 times in a row and declared herself ready.  Middle school is a big transition but we've been building up to it for the last six years.

We also visited the kindergarten class to meet my son's teacher, drop off supplies and find his cubby. As we pulled up to the school, my son remained in his car seat a moment longer than he normally does. "Mommy is today school?" I explained it was an open house for him to meet his teacher and the kids in his class before school started.  "Will there be only the little kids today?  No big kids?" he asked a little worried. "Just the kindergarteners today," I reassured him as I lifted him out of the car.  He clung to me and as much as I wanted to hold my quickly growing boy while I still could. Someone had to carry the heavy bag of  school supplies.

He was stoic in the classroom, hamming it up only for a photo by his cubby, sitting quietly, working on an art project, observing the kids around him. It was hard to get a read on how he was feeling about going to kindergarten.

Four years ago, carrying my 1 year old on my hip while accompanying his sister to her first day of second grade, I could hardly imagine his first day of kindergarten.  He was just mastering walking without looking like he was a drunken sailor. The idea that he'd be in school seemed so far away. But next week he'll walk into his classroom with the backpack and lunchbox he picked out and begin his adventures in academia.  It feels a bit like his future starts now.  I'm not alone.

As we left the open house, my son grabbed my hand and said,"Mama, you know what I think? I think the whirl'd (world) is all about me. I tried to stop my mind from thinking that, but I couldn't. Because it's true."