The First of the Lasts

Here in our house we are normally so overwhelmed with a packed schedule (friends, sports, parties, etc.) that we sometimes don't stop to notice what could turn out to be a momentous occasion. This is one such occurrence. Today I watched in tears as my last child, my baby, walked into his classroom on the first day of his last year of preschool. All of my kids have spent their formative early childhood years at the same  center and each has loved it with all their heart. There will be no more first days at a place that has loved and accepted each of them as they are, warts and all. No more hugs and kisses from beloved mentors who take them under their wing and treat them as if they are their own flesh and blood. No more rolling down the hall in the Little Tikes police car equipped with wailing sirens and walkie talkies to arrest offenders while decked out in full police regalia. No more special walks when they slip up and utter a profanity that they heard Mommy use in the car when that very bad driver cut in front of her.
So, I'm going to get my tissue now and suck it up while remaining thankful that I took a moment this morning to notice the first of what I am sure will be many heartbreaking lasts. I have a whole year to enjoy and dammit I'm going to milk it for all it's worth.