Elementary School. Big School. Grade School. Sounds way too serious to me.
Next year at nearly 6 Gael will be Prep. Shock. Shock. Horror. Horror. Six? How can that be? More than nostalgia it is wonderment. Amazed that he now has a world of his on that doesn't involve me. Surprised that he will soon be a little person with responsibilities of his own. As a baby he was more like a doll, an extension of me. An annoying doll that cried every 3-4 hours to be fed. A doll that made me giddy with love, happiness and all the sap and cheese that comes along with him down the birth canal.
These days he spends entire afternoons playing with his neighborhood friends in a world of dinosaur hunters and superhero adventures. His schedule is busier than mine with school, football, taekwondo and birthday parties. I suppose academic responsibility is due. But it sure as hell feels like I'm the one going to start prep at a new grade school next year all over again.