I bawled like a baby after we finished because I didn't realize how attached I was to his hair, how much it defined him for me. I feel like I'm looking at a completely different child, and then I'm kind of surprised when he pulls a classic Kiedis tantrum because, what?
He's not very fazed, though. He rubs his own head a little and runs around as if nothing happened, smiling and jumping and generally being so very much himself.
His new teacher called just a little bit ago to let me know he got off of his new bus at his new school just happy as could be, and was excited to play with the new toys and the new kids and eat the new snacks. He never ceases to amaze me in that regard -- my child, who started "school" with huge transition issues, now breezes through changes with little to no distress.
Meanwhile, I'm not as lucky.
He's three today, looking all so much the preschooler he how officially is.
And I'm ... still coping from all of the things his old teacher sent home in his bookbag yesterday -- photos they'd taken throughout the year of him, art work, birthday presents. The heartfelt note she wrote him in a book I plan to give him 15 years from now. The love I knew she had for him, and he for her, just passed along because of legalities and life.
I really hope he remembers her as he grows.
But today, today is for new things -- new appearances, new milestones, new adventures.
A new year for a new little boy I could not be more proud of.
Now excuse me while I hunt down more tissues because LORD MY EYES WILL NOT STOP WITH THE TEARING.