Julio

It’s July 1. We have 11 weeks until school starts. The weather today feels like spring. Rain and mist, soggy grass, muddy shoes, and long sleeves. It does not feel like summer break has started; how can we be counting down for fall? We need sun kissed cheeks, dirty feet, and band-aid patched knees at the end our our days before it’s time to think about September.

I’m not ready. Not yet.

I ordered school uniforms this week. Polo shirts and navy and khaki pants. I couldn’t pass up a big sale and save some money on the inevitable expense. When it all arrives, reality will sink in all the more:

I’m a mother to a first grader.

You blink and they grow on you. Sleep in their own bed. Pick out their own clothes. Lose teeth. And go to first grade.

Our second Thursday of Spanish summer camp was another success. Today featured a garden theme with planting seeds in a garden, Spanish worksheets, face painting, and bike rides. This morning he asked me to leave as soon as we arrived. He was again exhausted and ready to leave as soon as I returned. There was more participation from him this week and more interaction using our newly adopted second language. We celebrated with a trip to the bookstore for a pocket dictionary for me, and a favorite book for him, but in Spanish.

Now we both need to learn to read it.

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