a.m. Yes. I cried this morning as I dropped my now six year old, now grade one little boy off at school.
He’s not one of the littlest any more.
And I cried. All the way home. And when I got home.
I cried from sheer frustration out of having to have the same friggin discusison every morning about getting dressed for school.
From the tedium, having to explain, repeatedly that sitting naked on the bed is not actually getting dressed.
From the sore throat, as it seems the only way people will listen to me is if I scream at them.
From the resentment, because they are now running late and we have to rush and its all my fault.
From the wearing thin of my tolerance as I have to listen to cries and tantrums about the most innane issues.
I cried with relief as I dropped him off in his classroom