I spent a lot of time, yesterday, thinking about Baby Monkey heading to kindergarten in the fall.
I don’t know why I’m having such a hard time with this particular transition.
I’ve already blogged about how difficult it was for me when I simply registered him for Kindergarten.
Now, he’s really going to be going soon.
Monkey Girl went to Kindergarten and I survived.
Monkey in the Middle took his turn, as well, and all was fine.
Yet, the idea of Baby Monkey going to actual “school” seriously does a number on my heart.
There is a certain maturation that occurs in Kindergarten, and while I know that it is developmentally appropriate, it makes me sad to imagine it happening to Baby Monkey.
When kids go to kindergarten, their conversations are different.
Dinner-talk won’t be everyone chatting about their day and Baby Monkey butting in with worldly observations like “Pigs don’t do anything,” or “God takes care of us…and Batman.”
Instead, he’ll talk about school and work, which I’ll be more than happy to listen to, but I know how much I’ll miss the spontaneity and silliness of the nursery school mind.
I know that Baby Monkey will always be a character.
He will always be the silliest of the bunch and will, most likely, wear his “Class Clown” badge proudly at his high school graduation.
But he’ll never be “baby silly” again, and for that, I cry.
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