How High?

Kindergarten Graduation

I almost cried at the bus stop this morning as he boarded on the day of his "Kindergarten Celebration". He was freaked out. "Totally".

This evening, we sit at our camp. I look at him. He's grown, his feet nearly the same length as mine.

His clothes, some of which still fit 3 years later because they are cut that way, are too short and look like baseball pants or capris. His legs so long and lanky.

His hands, long fingers, adept at building and drawing. He's assembling Megatron. At least I think it's Megatron.

I watch, and as I watch I see him grow.

I kiss and hug him as he looks at me, waiting for it to end so he can return to Megatraon. I'm holding him back.

He breaks the silence to ask Dad why "rednecks like country music". In the conversation, Dad says some people don't like things to change.

I think I might not want certain things to change.

He asks sweetly after being punished if he could return outside to play for a few minutes. I get consensus from Dad and he can go.

He comes back in on his own, a first, without prompting. He begins to jump, asking me to tell him "how high", a joke he and his Dad share.

I smile. And he jumped, and he jumped as high as I asked, and he asked me to place my hand up higher each time.

His clothes, like Hulk, literally growing out of them before my eyes. Like a man suddenly grown from a boy, like in a fantasy movie when it happens overnight.

That's exactly what happened.