Today I dropped Conner off right by the school today and as I saw him walking in with his entirely black outfit, I almost cried.
No, not because my 6 year old has turned to goth.
Because my six year old is a stinkbug in his first grade play today. I guess it's a concert, not a play.
All the sudden my mind went wandering back to myself in a pink leotard and tights, with a pink tutu, pretty much thinking I was the belle of the ball, er... circus.
In my first grade class we had a circus. I was a tight rope walker, I coveted the spot of the jump-ropers but I wasn't coordinated enough (and thus we see my weight loss battle already coming to a head). Anyway, it is still one of my most cheirshed memories of my life, and now my son is having his first grade "moment" and how life is all one giant cycle and we can only hope we do as good with our kids as our parents tried with us.
Anyway, I had a little tear sting going on while I was fighting to leave the parking lot.
Definitely reminded me why I scrapbook, and why I have kids, and why life is just grand.