insides

Tomorrow is the last day of school. They just keep moving on. Next up, fifth and eighth grades.

Today was the last day at the preschool where I work. Parents were tearfully snapping end-of-year photos of their five year olds. Their children are done with preschool and ready for kindergarten.  The parents are not ready for kindergarten. I know I wasn't. I wasn't ready for middle school. And the talk of high school makes me dizzy.

Pook's first day of preschool was the beginning of a big change for me. For the first time he'd had a day full of new experiences and I hadn't been part of them. And he told me nothing about them. I wanted to share in his day. I asked him open-ended questions to lead him into longer stories. In the end, all I ever learned about his preschool days was who he sat with for lunch. In elementary school I learned what he ate for lunch. In middle school I only know that they do eat lunch, but what else happens is a mystery. Just like all of Pook's days.

Bug tells me a bit more. Sometimes I hear stories about his friends and the silly things they do. And yet it is still all factual. There is no commentary. Maybe this is a trait held by more girls. How do you feel? What are you thinking? Can I see inside your brain and into your heart?