Friday, June 28, 2013

And then there's Clara's drop-off . . .

Suddenly my six year old (six years old, minus EIGHT baby teeth as of this week) doesn't want ME to be too clingy on drop-off.

At the entrance to camp, Clara tells me where I can stand to watch her walk away.   I am told I can stand there until she turns and waves and, at that point, I am to leave.

My little girl, toting a vast pink backpack, dismisses me in the mornings with a businesslike wave over her shoulder and (only if no one is looking) a furtively blown kiss.

What a big girl.  (What a tiny girl, with a huge backpack.)

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