School

Every two years another baby bird tries out its wings, and I assume it will get easier, but it never does. My sweet daughter waved an apprehensive good-bye this morning as she stepped into her kindergarten class. I confess that I was temporarily undone. However, midget #4 was having a harder time than I was, so pulled myself together for his sake. I always forget how much the younger one depends on the next older one. Jake will always be the alpha male to be revered by his siblings (and rightly so), but Isaac and Clara loved each other and it was hard for her to see him go. Clara and Will are the same. And I'm sure, though James, at the ripe age of one, is already a professional at driving Will up the wall, that these two little boys will feel it when Willy leaves for school also. Enough blubbering. I'm sure most of you reading understand my feelings today. A pictoral sequence of events:

Our happy school-bound quartet. (James was still in bed.)

Waiting for the bus at our corner. Only the boys ride in the morning, then they all come home together. William, trying to bug his mom...in all ways. Port-A-Potty in the background that the painter had delivered so he doesn't have to come inside. Guess who was the very first person to use it (and continues to on occasion). Yep. Clara.

Little Clara Margaret, just before I dropped her off at school (afternoon kindergarten).

A dejected William getting left behind. We had to take our lunches to the park to make up for it.

Will voicing his worries about sister. Will she ever come back?
A happy crowd comes home on the bus to a happy crowd.

Rejoicing, Will embraces his sister. What did we do without her all those three hours??