Mom's Last Kindergarten Sendoff

I subscribe to a writer's blog that offers great helps for people like me, who are interested in learning about writing skills.  I decided to take on the challenge this time about "How to paint a scene with words," with focus on including important extra details.  Here is my result...a story of my emotional sendoff to kindergarten yesterday.  I thought some of you might enjoy it.

Here's that blog, in case any of you writers out there would like to check it out:
http://thewritepractice.com/

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The feel of the bright yellow Spongebob pajamas was a little rough to my touch as I nudged my sleeping Tate on the elbow.
 
"It's time to wake up, buddy, today's your first day of school!"

He rolled over slowly and stretched every muscle of his body, with the last movement being the huge smile that decorated his sleepy face.

"I know, Mom!" he answered with his low morning voice, eyes still closed.

"Are you so excited?"  I asked, hoping that he was more eager than nervous.

"Yes," he replied, opening his eyes and giving me relief.

I had been anticipating this day for a long time, but my head was spinning more than I thought it would.  I couldn't wait for the free hours to myself--the brand new daily kid-free time that I would enjoy for the first time since I first became a mother, four children ago. What I hadn't counted on was the flooding feeling of emptiness that accompanied sending my youngest off into the great big world (which meant anywhere that was not at home with me).

Tate didn't even think twice about what to wear for the special occasion; it was the bright primary colors and cartoon characters of Lego Ninjago apparel all the way.  I dressed up a little less, in my lazy jeans and comfy t-shirt, just formal enough to be seen outside the home and walk him to school.

Once I realized that his half-eaten breakfast was as far fed as he would get, we mounted the brand new backpack and headed out the door.  Our routine was not perfect yet, so we would have to shoot for remembering the morning teeth-brushing tomorrow.

He allowed me to carry his small, warm, perfect little hand in mine as we walked across the back yard to his school.  Only a few more moments and we'd have to face the big goodbye.  "At least I'll get to see him all the way into the classroom," I planned.

"Does Mom get to walk in to class on the first day?" I asked the principal, who stood guard at the front door of the school, with her perfectly styled hair, attractive dress and jewelry.

"Does Mom have to?" she asked me, with only her student's transition experience in mind.

"I guess not," I replied, realizing Tate would be fine on his own from here.

One big giant hug and kiss later, he walked away from me cautiously but optimistically, as the split in my heart began to hurt, on the other side of the glass door.