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My daughter was once a timid little girl who only wanted to be by my side. While it was heartwarming to witness her attachment to me, I yearned for her to develop social skills and find joy outside our little world.
When she was two, I would drop her off at her early learning class for three hours, two days a week, and she would cry without fail. At three, while the tears stopped, she would still retreat to the corner, opting for solitude instead of engaging with others. Her teachers reassured me that she was adjusting, though it took time.
Then the pandemic struck, and she was home with me once again. I prepared myself for potential setbacks when in-person kindergarten began. There were new teachers, unfamiliar friends, and strict protocols that she’d never encountered before. I could no longer walk her to her classroom; instead, she was greeted by a teacher, had her temperature checked, and made her way down the stairs on her own.
In the weeks leading up to her first day, I mourned the inevitable separation. For the first time in four years, I would be away from her for seven and a half hours a day, five days a week. My days as a full-time stay-at-home mom were coming to a close. She was excited, and I wished that summer would last forever.
When the day arrived, I had already visited her kindergarten classroom and met her teacher. She had proudly shown off her uniform to her dad, selected a bow, and chosen new shoes. Unlike her brothers, she would walk in alone on her first day. I took a deep breath and said, “I love you, have the best day.”
She gave me a kiss and walked away—no tears, no clinging to me, not even a glance back. My little girl was excited, brave, and ready. My heart swelled with pride. I didn’t cry; I was overjoyed. She had truly spread her wings.
I’ve playfully asked her if she misses me at school, and she responds, “No. Why would I miss you?” Naturally, I don’t want her to miss me. I want her to experience all that school has to offer, to make friends, and to learn. And each day, she is thriving, transforming into a different child than she was just a year ago.
Thankfully, I still share moments with her. We play with dolls, wear matching outfits, and she allows me to choose bows for her hair.
I’m not oblivious to the fact that this phase is temporary. Just as she no longer misses me during kindergarten, she won’t always need me as much as she does now. The Velcro shoes will soon be replaced by laces, the bows by scrunchies, and her cute lunch box by a plain paper bag.
Time has flown by. That little girl who I could easily hold in my arms is needing me less with each passing day. Yet, I need her. I doubt she’ll ever fully grasp how much I rely on her presence. Though she may share my heart with her three brothers, she is the youngest and always tugs at my heartstrings a little more.
Rather than dwell on what’s gone by, I choose to embrace the present and look forward to the future. Before long, she will truly leave the nest and venture out on her own. If I do my job right, maybe she’ll miss me just a bit when that time comes.
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Summary
The journey of watching a child grow from a dependent toddler into an independent kindergartner can evoke a mix of emotions. As a mother reflects on her daughter’s transition, she recognizes the bittersweet nature of parenting—celebrating her child’s newfound independence while grappling with her own feelings of loss. Embracing the present and looking forward to the future becomes essential as the relationship evolves.