When I think back to elementary school, third grade stands out as the first year where I have distinct memories instead of blurry images. I remember making globes out of gluey strips of newspaper and balloons. I remember roller skating parties in the gym after school. I remember (traumatically) watching the Challenger launch in the neighboring third grade classroom. I remember trying to beat this red-haired kid Patrick in a foot race on the playground. I remember reading and reading…digging deeper into the musty library stacks to find new books to read.
And as I send Madi off to third grade this year, I am struck by how fast we have gotten to this point. Wasn’t it just yesterday that she was learning to write her name and how she is writing everything in cursive? Overnight she has turned into this flutter shirt wearing, constantly chattering, lover of Cupcake Wars, and convinced that she is going to be the world’s greatest chef someday. She’s self sufficient and brave (most of the time) and can read as fast as me.
I wonder what third grade has in store for my Madi-girl. I want…I pray that her year is as memorable (in good ways) as my third grade year was. May her friends not be catty and her teachers understanding. May she find ways to shine in a world where everyone is graded on a curve. May she realize her potential instead of just doing what needs to be done. May she walk boldly through the school door without having to look back and see her mama with tears sliding down her face as I watch her slip through my fingers.
Make some moments this year, my girl. Make it a good year, a year to remember.
Hug your mama.