I'm not talking about aging. Well, at least not MY aging. I am referring to my sweet boy who has started Kindergarten and the aching feeling I have had the past few weeks while thinking, "Where did the time go?"
It seems so cliche and we all rolled our eyes as we heard parents and family remark about how tall we'd gotten and how they remembered when we were just "this tall". But there is truth in it. Time flies. And it accellerates as soon as they put that child in your arms, it seems.
Today, Aron did not have school. He starts tomorrow, so I decided to spend the majority of my day just soaking him up. He's five, so he really didn't notice me breathing in the scent of his hair as we snuggled on the couch this morning and watched his favorite cartoon.
When I suggested we have a pic-nic lunch at the park, his emphatic "YES!" made my heart overflow. I wanted to memorize every detail of this day and him wanting to be with me.
We spread out a blanket under a tree and shared lunch. He was too busy munching on his sandwich and shoving in apple slices between bites of it to care that I was watching him. I didn't remind him to chew with his mouth closed today. I just chuckled inside at the sound of him being a little boy.
After we ate, we read together. He decided the pattern of our reading: he sounded out the words one at a time and then when he pointed at me, I read it to confirm what he had done. It was a sweet little game and I loved the ease of it. No rules had to be set. No explanation necessary. It's the way he likes to do it and I know that about him. I know that a day will come when I don't know him best. I am so thankful that today, I am the one who does.
After some reading, he was ready to hit the playground. I followed him into his imaginary play and let him lead. We went from the castle to the ship after using our secret code to enter it, of course. After I struggled to balance across the obstacles, he would said, "Well, you could have just used those stairs over there." Thanks, bud.
I hoisted up the anchor and he steered the ship. We explored and found treasure. It was locked so we had to find the right key. (A piece of mulch from the playground- but not just any piece. The one with the secret code on it that only he could find.) We burried our treasure and then ran back to the ship, weighing anchor and taking off right before a bomb exploded.
When it was time to go, I was as sad to leave as he was. It meant the clock would start ticking again. He'll be at Kindergarten again tomorrow and he will have new, more agile friends to play his games with. And I'll be watching the clock for the hour when my little guy gets home.
