My son, ever so composed, doesn't get what all the fuss is about. “I'm ready for middle school,” he says.
My daughter has two more elementary years ahead of her, so today only means one thing to her – the beginning of summer break – and she's not at all moved by my sentimental swirl. “Bye daddy,” she tells me, like it's any other day.
I realized that this morning was one of the last times I'll drive both of my kids to school together. By the time they cross paths again in middle school (for just a year), they'll be riding the bus regularly or maybe carpooling with friends.
One of the most enjoyable parts of my day has been dropping the two of them off at school on my way to work. We dial in their favorite radio stations and sing and laugh and argue and sometimes just stare out the car windows together. If they're being bad, I make them listen to “dad music.” You should hear the groans.
Bounding from the car this morning, my son and daughter paused just long enough for a quick photo and then shot toward their classrooms, leaving the backseats of my car still and silent and utterly deserted.