This is you, standing in Fish Lake (there’s water there in the winter) after you’d just turned 4 last year.
This is you this summer, blowing away the competition in the 200m.
Dear Elena,
You’re starting Kindergarten in less than a month! You are excited, and so am I. You are a bundle of social energy, and I think you’re going to really love being in school. It’s fascinating and fun to parent two very different children and observe how you both interact with the world. When Sylvan entered school, a year older than you, he was definitely reticent and nervous, and he was also already reading, although he wouldn’t admit that (he read signs to us, but he refused to read books). You are enthusiastic and ready to go; you probably know most of your letters, but we haven’t tested that; and I couldn’t imagine holding you back to prepare for another year, despite limited but available empirical evidence that students older within their peer group outperform the youngest students. I have no fear that you’ll succeed, Elena, really at whatever you put your mind to.
On the Merced River.
Half Dome from the other side and some wind-blown kids.
You are a master of Vision and Action, one of NOLS’s seven leadership principles. When something needs to get done, you simply buckle down and do it. If it’s time to put on sunscreen, you find the sunscreen and have it on before I can pack my pool bag. If you want to create art, you walk in and cut and paint and draw and paste until it’s time for a snack; then you get yourself a carrot. Getting things done is a crucial and healthy trait, a characteristic that will serve you well as a student, as a grown-up, as a partner, and simply as a successful human. I could probably serve you better by making art supplies more available to you—ÂÂor cleaning supplies, for that matter. The house would sparkle if I just stepped back and let you at it. As a student, I think you would thrive in a Montessori setting. I hope Edison’s Kindergarten is hands-on enough for your sensibilities.
The other thing I hope is that this hitting phase subsides as you gain more and more coping skills. You get frustrated with your brother—as any human being would when confronted with big sibling cruelty (sorry, Jenn)—and you just haul off and whack him. You went through a phase like that a year ago in pre-school, and then it passed as your communication skills improved. Please don’t let your Kindergarten teacher call us because you’re beating up your friends.
Can’t have too many plungers on this blog.
You’re changing your child-logic verb tenses to grammatically-correct ones these days, inserting “went†where “goed†used to sit, for instance.
Right now, you’re motivated by being a “big girl.†I try not to utilize that too much, because it’s nice to have a little girl; but I don’t mind telling you that 5-year-olds can use Hideaway Bakery’s bathroom alone.
I love this photo. Two of these kids will be in Kindergarten next year. Two of these kids love to read and have water fights with each other.
Yesterday, four days after you turned 5, you went down the big blue slide at Amazon Pool by yourself, without the lifeguard catching you at the bottom! After your first ride down, when the lifeguard caught you and then helped you swim to the side, I saw the disappointment in your eyes. “Go back!†I suggested, “Tell them you don’t need a catcher.†Big girl, you just zoomed out into the water, put your head down, and swam like a fish to the side. “The current helped me,†you said.
I love you, Big Little Girl.
Love,
Mommy
Fun at your birthday party.
I don’t tell you very often that you’re beautiful, because I want you to know that being generous and clever and funny are more important; but, Elena, you are lovely.
