Last night at dinner Jake discovered he had a small bit of cottage cheese stuck to his elbow. We told him to grab his napkin and wipe it off. But instead he said, “I’ll just lick that off.” What ensued was a hilarious ten minute display of sheer will and determination, to prove, against all odds and advice to the contrary, that it is indeed possible to lick one’s own elbow.
His outstretched tongue, wagging oh so close to the prized bit of cheese curd, but not quite touching it is the way I feel my oldest son and I are approaching his immanent graduation from elementary school and first dipping of his toe into the waters of Middle School. We’ve had meetings and talks and will soon have a tour and official orientation. But it’s just out of our reach to really grasp that it’s about to happen to us.
All the experiences that are waiting for him in that new life are an exciting milestone to be looked forward to for sure. But of course, leaving behind the school where one started one’s lifetime of learning is a milestone with its own set of emotions, especially for his parents.
John’s last teacher conference in elementary school is the perfect example. His 5th grade teacher is apparently fully aware of the turning point and its emotional pitfalls for parents and of course took full advantage of allowing us to appreciate the moment of his last conference to its fullest. John worked hard to prepare a power point presentation which he presented standing before us at a music stand turned podium to present his accomplishments in his year of learning to date.
Craig and I both noticed how tall he’s grown. John loved rising to the occasion to run the show before us with no help, as a grown up would, explaining to us all the finer nuances of life as big man on campus in the 5th grade. But I also noticed that this man child still has a shy way of tilting his chin down and looking at us with upturned eyes, an old familiar trait we’ve seen since he was a toddler, and flashes of that charming, natural smile that could light my world on its darkest day.
Then, the two of them, he and his teacher, pulled the rug out from under our feet. John took a seat at the table before us and said, “Mom and Dad, I’d like to finish by reading you this letter I wrote to you.”
My heart began racing and I could feel my heart pounding in my temples. I could feel it coming.
His letter began, “Dear Mom and Dad, It’s almost the end of the year! Can you believe it? I can’t. The last 11 years have been awesome! You guys are the reason why they have been awesome so I want to say thank you.”
I could not stop the tears, and I glanced to my left to witness the same from John’s dad. His letter went on to note things like, “Thanks for supporting me at all of my sports games cheering me on whether we win or lose. When I am sick you are always there to take care of me.”
“Thanks for teaching me about sports. You taught me to play baseball, football, basketball and more!”
Their coup worked and their little victory provided me with a moment I will always remember. Now, with that letter tucked away, we have one summer to go before we walk right into the next chapter of our lives and finally reach that bit of cottage cheese stuck there on our elbow.
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