Bittersweet First

Gavin's first day of school is today, and I feel...well, melancholy. He couldn't have been more excited, of course, but I feel like he took my heart with him in his little Blue's Clues backpack, along with his "Cars movie" puzzle (as he calls it) for show and tell and some school supplies.


This isn't traditional preschool in the sense that I dropped him off at a place of business with a professional teacher, outrageously expensive and under-achieving curriculum, and a 5 days-a-week schedule; rather, I love that we opted for Joy School instead. He gets to experience 6 different teachers, each of us the mothers of the six children in this school and members of the Church, with a wonderful curriculum that teaches about the joys of childhood, and he will learn and play with children he already knows from church as well. I do love traditional preschools (as long as they adhere to NAEYC standards and curricula), but I didn't want to put Gavin into an expensive preschool that would teach things he already knew just for the sake of social interaction. That's a pretty expensive play date. Joy School was a great fit for us.

On paper, it looks like I'm being a big baby. Well, I am. So there.

I know, however, that every other mother (and father) who has ever seen her children go through an experience that makes them grow understands.

I just wanted to hold him this morning and command him to stop growing. No more getting taller! No more growing out of your clothing! No more asking what "industrious" means and recalling the correct answer at a later date! No more teaching a fabulous lesson on the sacrament at Family Home Evening! I forbid you to leave me, to go off and learn and become everything your Heavenly Father wants you to be. Okay, okay, everything I, too want you to be...

...Just not yet.

And yet, I so look forward to the look on his face and the energy he will bring with him as he itches to tell me all about what he did today and how excited he is to go back. I want to etch into my memory the way his little face looks as he animatedly relates the activities of the day and, I'm sure, delivers a report on the toilets. (Gavin's fascination with toilets is incredible.)

It's times like these when I look heavenward and thank my Heavenly Father for creating in me a desire so strong to be with my children that I would do anything to have them with me for eternity. How much more must the Lord want us, His children, to return to His presence? Does He not ache for our own growing pains, even more so than we do for our children because He knows the outcome of our choices before we make them? It is a tender mercy, then, that I have this time to remind me of the importance and the enormity of my responsibility.

Better to get all of my deep thoughts out before Gavin gets home, anyway. I guess I'll just have to stare at this face for awhile while we wait for our favorite boy!