Don’t get me wrong; it’s not that I am not excited for you. I am. I know you will excel in school and do awesome. You are super smart; you always have been. You recognized the alphabet at 2 years old. That seems advanced to me. You love to learn. Your teacher already picked that up at kindergarten evaluation. They flattered me with the notion that they almost wanted to advance you to first grade. Your brightness shows.

Who knew humility would be served to me by a three foot tall toddler. My first child, Timothy, bright eyed lover of life, has stolen my heart, but has also caused me to eat some extra chocolate (for medicinal purposes). I am the mother who strolled into the grocery store, only to stroll right out, because their child was screaming bloody murder while trying to leap from the cart. I am the mother who had to straight arm my child to try to get him into his car seat long enough to buckle him in. I am the mother who tried to get two kids in the house, while one is screaming “help” loud enough for neighbors 5 blocks away to hear. I am “that” mother.