Dear Middle G.,

How can you be starting 4th grade? Wasn't I just dragging your brother out of the car to pick you up at preschool? Didn't you just tell me how much you loved kindergarten?

When did you become so independent? Why do we never agree about anything any more? Why do you always have to be right? How did you become so stubborn?

What happened to the little girl that held my hand and said, "I don't want to leave you mommy. It's not fair. You're gonna have fun without me"

Now you are off to intermediate school, where you will be the youngest in the building. A place where you won't find mommy in the lunch room. You'll be on your own. You will ride a different bus than the one that has been taking you to school for the last four years.

You will be surrounded by 5th and 6th graders, one of them your sister. Those silly songs played on the other bus will be replaced by ipods and an occasional swear word. You will change and grow even more this year than you did last year. I'm not ready for that. But trying to keep you little is like trying to catch the wind. Soon it blows right past you, only staying for a minute.

I'm excited for you to take on this new adventure, but part of me is sad.

Sad that I can't be there, if no one wants to sit with you at lunch.

Sad that I can't help you figure out what to do in that huge cafeteria.

Sad that you will have much fun without me.

I'm excited that you will likely make new friends this year and will cross my fingers that they will treat you the way you deserve to be treated because over the next few years you will value their opinion more than you value mine.

As I look at you, I can't help but remember the baby who looked at me such adoration and awe. The baby that never slept and didn't have much hair until she was two years old. Where did she go?

Do you know how much I love you? Good luck in 4th grade.

I'll be here when you get home.

Mom (formerly known as mommy)