rounded-up

Alright, Beans, it's official. You are starting Big School in the fall. I know we've been talking about it forever but I actually wrote your big name on some papers and the lady took them and said you are signed up for school. No more "Gennie"; now you're Genesis. I had to tell them if you had allergies and sign the permanent permission slip for you to go on field trips. And I had to come back with you to have your photo taken for the teacher's file. And I don't care if your dad laughed at me for taking this camera-phone picture: "Oh my gosh, you are NOT taking a picture of her getting her picture taken, are you? You're such a mom." (He was kidding, especially when I gave him the greasy eye and told him to shut it.)

You are such a big girl now, not my little side-kick anymore. I don't have to buckle your seatbelt anymore and you can see over the handle of the shopping cart enough to push it now. You pick out your own clothes and do your own hair. You are going to make your own friends and have your own secrets. You are going to learn and discover and grow all on your own, away from me. And maybe by September I'll be okay with all this.

But I don't think so.