The Last Day

"I'm so excited!" She giggled and wiggled as I tucked her into bed with her threadbare fleece blanket and Fancy Nancy storybook. Her sparkling eyes spoke volumes, as they have since she was born: this is it! they seemed to say. The big day is FINALLY here!

I smiled, though I felt like sighing. Yup, that day is here. "You need to go to sleep, you have a big day tomorrow" I told her three more times as I sent her back to bed. What is Disneyland compared to Kindergarten? The excitement was more than her little body could stand. Finally, after her brother and sister had been asleep for an hour and her Dad headed to the gym, I decided to put the matter in God's hands.

"Should we say a prayer to help you sleep?" I asked, and she nodded. We said a little prayer, I kissed her forehead, she headed up the stairs, and for the hundredth time today, the same phrase went through my head.

It's the Last Day.

Kevin has always had a hard time handling anticipation. When she was about three, we started using the phrase, "it's the Last Day!" to let her know that her wait was about to be over. Every Monday she'd wake up asking, "is it the Last Day?" and I'd have to carefully break it to her that we had several days to go to make it to the Last Day. Somehow Friday always arrived and I loved to start her day with, "Guess what sweetheart? Today's the Last Day! Daddy doesn't have to go to work today!" or "it's the Last Day! Tomorrow we go to Papa's House!" or "It's the Last Day! Tomorrow is your birthday!"

There was no need for that conversation today, but my brain still reminded me.

I was reminded as I watched her sleepily walk down the stairs, realizing that tomorrow she'll have to be out the door by this time.

I was reminded as she came up from the playroom to find me, telling me, "I just thought, 'I miss my Mom,' so I thought I would come up and see what you are doing."

I was reminded as I gave in to her brilliant idea to paint our fingernails, surprising her by painting my nails to match hers. It's like the Kissing Hand, I thought. "Tomorrow," I told her (and myself), "If you are missing me, you can look at your fingernails and remember that ours are the same and you'll be fine."

I was reminded when painting our nails turned into playing paper dolls, her standard request whenever her sister is sleeping and her brother is watching his shows. I looked at her and realized:

It's the Last Day.

My last full day with her at home. Our last day before we start the grade school era of our lives, which will be followed by middle school, high school, college, missions, marriage, grandchildren...

I wonder, have I done enough to prepare her? Have I read a thousand books to her? Did I spend enough time teaching her letters? Practicing counting? Mixing colors and recognizing shapes? Did I model enough appropriate social behaviors? Did I teach her to be unfailingly kind? Will she know how to make new friends? How long will it take for her teacher to correct her habit of starting at the bottom instead of the top when she writes her letters? Did I instill enough confidence? Humility? The child is not resilient. I know that much. I tried. Oh, I've tried.

It feels like the end. The timer is about to beep. My time is up.

And then I remembered this quote that my mom shares in her kindergarten readiness parent workshops:

"Children’s first and most influential teachers are their parents/family. They play an important foundational role in the child’s learning and achievement. When parents, educators, and caregivers work together in the education and well-being of a child, a partnership is formed that will influence the best possible learning outcomes for the learner" (Utah's Early Childhood Standards, p. 4).

 I may be her first teacher, but I will not be her last. 

After all, tomorrow is the First Day.