Molly's preschool had a Mother's Day party today. It was darling. We were swarmed with munchkins (who are not so excited to see us at home, but at school love us ten times more than usual) eager to present us with hand-printed hot pads and sorbet. Sorbet! I was pumped, as I had sent this text to my friend two seconds before walking into the school: "Waiting to go into school for mothers day party. Ohmygosh! I hope there is a snack!"
So the sorbet was awesome. Then they sang some songs about being little miracles, and flowers and sunshine being for everyone, big or small, rich or poor. I started choking up, but managed to squash the tears by focusing on the kid inviting Molly to dance (oh geez, it's the same kid who brought her a shell from Florida over spring break. Lord, help me).
But then. Then! Those wonderfully sadistic teachers presented us with a portfolio of our child's work, complete with the name tag they got the first day of school, blurbs about what they like to do with their Daddies from the Father's Day Valentine's Day party, and... a string.
A string they used to measure Molly way back in October. She has grown. And not just taller. She colors in the lines better now, she memorizes long(ish) songs and poems, she speaks more eloquently, she shares more happily, she holds her crayon properly, she has even more confidence (!), and she's just... older. A more mature Molly. Thank you piece of string, thank you very much. I will tape you up and remember all the ways in which my girl has grown, even as she puts her shoes on the wrong feet or spills her milk or cries when she falls. She might be little, but I know it's not for long.