Measures of Time
The beginning of school. Most parents scramble to get their kids ready -- maybe new clothes, a new knapsack and for some of us, some story books on transitioning back to school. Maybe as children reach past the toddler age, time fuses a little, maybe the post Labour Day routine so ingrained. Maybe not.
For us, this first day of school is a stark measure of time passing by. Adam's cherub cheeks have gone now, his body has grown taller, making him look skinny even though he eats all day long. This summer, we saw a real joy in camp -- Adam allowing his friends to kiss him, to hug him and Adam, sweet Adam, relishing it with giggles -- a stark contrast to Adam's earlier years when he didn't like people coming too close -- let alone noisy children. We traveled to Alaska where Adam endured six hour tours with grace and began to use his first four-word sentences. We saw a sudden maturity at the doctor this summer -- Adam entering the office and instead of distressed cries, grabbed the doc's hands leading them to the device to check the ears and saying "ear, ear" clearly. We went back to the hospital for ear cleaning procedures from swimmer's ear and Adam cooperated. Adam taught himself how to swim underwater. He taught himself to leap, to hop -- with a little help from his friends.
So while I reflect on all the things that Adam did this summer, even celebrate his growth, there is nothing more unclad than the sudden rush of the first school morning, and the first school bus to whisk him away from me.
"Bye, Adam, bye," I say frantically as the door begins to close, my hands waving, my face masked with a huge smile until he pulls out of my view. There is no other fuss. The bus driver has no idea in her quest to be on time.
So I guess yesterday was another measure of time, as Adam stripped himself of his clothes and made up for his ban on swimming by playing with the hose and then jumping on his trampoline.
The last day of summer, the final days of his baby years. His naked innocence peaking, and the relentless march of time.
For us, this first day of school is a stark measure of time passing by. Adam's cherub cheeks have gone now, his body has grown taller, making him look skinny even though he eats all day long. This summer, we saw a real joy in camp -- Adam allowing his friends to kiss him, to hug him and Adam, sweet Adam, relishing it with giggles -- a stark contrast to Adam's earlier years when he didn't like people coming too close -- let alone noisy children. We traveled to Alaska where Adam endured six hour tours with grace and began to use his first four-word sentences. We saw a sudden maturity at the doctor this summer -- Adam entering the office and instead of distressed cries, grabbed the doc's hands leading them to the device to check the ears and saying "ear, ear" clearly. We went back to the hospital for ear cleaning procedures from swimmer's ear and Adam cooperated. Adam taught himself how to swim underwater. He taught himself to leap, to hop -- with a little help from his friends.
So while I reflect on all the things that Adam did this summer, even celebrate his growth, there is nothing more unclad than the sudden rush of the first school morning, and the first school bus to whisk him away from me.
"Bye, Adam, bye," I say frantically as the door begins to close, my hands waving, my face masked with a huge smile until he pulls out of my view. There is no other fuss. The bus driver has no idea in her quest to be on time.
So I guess yesterday was another measure of time, as Adam stripped himself of his clothes and made up for his ban on swimming by playing with the hose and then jumping on his trampoline.
The last day of summer, the final days of his baby years. His naked innocence peaking, and the relentless march of time.
7 Comments:
Hang on to those pictures. The will be good for blackmale when he is older.
Of course everyone slept in this morning here. We have 2 buses. The spec. ed for the little one comes first and then the regular bus for the eldest.
Chaos :)
Hoping everyone transitions easily into a new school year.
S.
Big White Hat:
They will likely be the last of the naked ones! He is still innocent.
Although, if you live in Europe (which I have) children are always running around naked in the summer. So there shouldn't be any blackmail required. ;)
Who is that tall boy???
Wow, Estee! He's really grown.
Yes, Camille. It's amazing what happens in one summer.
THe photos are simply breathtakingly beautiful. They capture and convey so much of the innocence of your son. Not pictures for future blackmail; pictures to treasure forever those lost moments never to return again to the summer of utter innocence.
How sweet! I just love the photo of him sucking his thumb, he looks so peacefully happy!
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