Dylan started "junior kindergarten" yesterday. I am happy to report we have blasted right into school, and I don't think there's any looking back.

I think this kid is a bit of a politician at heart. He wasn't shaking hands, but he was cheerfully greeting other students as we waited for the doors to open. His standard questions included: "How old are you?" "What class are you in?" "What is your favorite color?" He even commented one girl was wearing a nice dress.

His classroom is up a flight of stairs, which he bounded like Tigger on espresso. He hung up his backpack, stopped dead in his tracks and was approprately blown away by another boy's Star Wars 'pack that was "Really cool!" He was so impressed with this kid that he sat down next to him, started coloring and chatting about who knows what. Never mind he didn't know this kid -- I guess he figured they'd be fast friends.

I am watching this with my husband Tim feeling a bit proud of how secure Dylan feels about his place in this world. I am mentally rewinding to the day I brought him home from the hospital. How everyone said this day would come way too fast. Where have the last 5 years gone? (Note: I ask myself that on a daily basis, but the intent of this particular question was more profound!)

Other parents arrive; a few moms and dads are shuffling out. Tim nudges me, and I know it's time to go.

But not before Dylan implores me in a rather bossy voice: "MOM-- isn't it TIME for YOU to GO!"

Yes, my time had come as Dylan's was just arriving. At that moment, I could almost feel the heave of a big gust of wind  -- this sent my little kite and spirits soaring. 

"Of course honey, I'll see you later," I said, giving him a kiss. "Have a great day!"

No tears here.  Let the adventure begin!