I took Annie to our local elementary school to drop off her registration packet for kindergarten. She strutted down the halls, telling me how big she is now, and how excited she is for next year. She made the school secretary guffaw by announcing to everyone in the local vicinity that she is now 5 1/2, and more than ready to go to kindergarten. The secretary shot me a secret look of glee that quickly turned to pity when she noticed that I was about to lose my swizzle shit.
I'm not a crier. I'm not an emotional person. In fact, during moments of drama or high stress, I'm more apt to make an inappropriate joke or giggle than to burst into tears. I'm not being insensitive, it's just how I do things. Tell me my Mom has a brain tumor? We're going to immediately start making hairstyle jokes. (true story). Cat dying in the backyard and my girlfriend crushes up drugs to sedate her before I can get her to the vet? I think I'm being punked as a storyline for Desperate Housewives.
So it mostly surprised me that this little jaunt to the school office would affect me so much. It sounds so cliche, but it just seems like it's going so, so fast. Her elementary school smells EXACTLY like my elementary school--- Elmers glue, stinky sneakers and construction paper. But the kids look so BIG, so much more (stupid word here) sophisticated. I know the next logical step is to have Annie put a ban on all things Disney Princess and move on to slutty Hannah Montana, but I feel like (especially with girls) that we are at a crossroads to keep our children as young as humanly possible.
And ironically, this school trip taught me that I'm the one that has to mature a little bit.