And now I am the mother of a first, third and fifth grader. How did I get to be the mother of old kids? (Please do not feel the need to tell me that "old" and "kids" don't really belong in the same sentence.)
Old kid #1: Rose #1. Happy, confident fifth grader. Came home reporting that she LOVES her teacher, Ms. Richardson. All teachers will forever be compared to her third grade teacher. Rose #1 and her third grade teacher Ms. T. were a match made in heaven. I was sort of embarrassed at myself at spring conferences when I told Ms. T. privately that Rose #1 just LOVED her, but I don't regret telling her. If I was a teacher, I would want to know things like that. Anyway, Rose #1 told me at dinner that she thinks Ms. Richardson might measure up to Ms. T!
Rose #3 was just in fashion heaven. I let her buy a sparkle hat, AND I curled her hair this morning. I wish you could hear how Rose #3 pronounces the word "curl." It sounds like "curlul," and it is so darned cute. She was so happy and cute when I dropped her off at before school care this morning. Better yet, her kindergarten teacher walked in right after us, and Rose #3 gave her a huge hug, then held her at arm's length, pointed at her purse, and said "I just LOVE your purse!"
Rose #2 was philosophical this morning. She was excited for school, a little nervous about her new teacher, but generally chipper. She came home with rave reviews for Ms. Ashcraft. Rose #2 is my middle baby, who wants plenty of time to think about stuff before she has to pass judgment on it.
Here are the two big girls at the bus stop this morning. To their credit, they permitted me to take their picture in front of the other 8 or 10 kids at their stop. (An aside: it was so disgustingly humid this morning, I felt like you could cut the air with a butter knife. Gag.)
And here they are, lining up for the bus that isn't quite visible in the distance.
Here are my school girls, 2012 - 2013. We're going to knock 'em dead!