Tuesday, August 28, 2012
I entered Lukas' Pre-K classroom for one of the last times on Monday. We have been there for nearly 5 years, but the time has come to move on.
I guess I was feeling a bit nostalgic thinking of how quickly time has passed, because I lost myself for just a moment thinking of all the memories that have been made having him across the street from my work. All the times I have spent my lunch hour reading him books before mussing his hair, giving him a huge bear hug and kiss, then walking back across the road to continue my work day. Having him this close has certainly helped alleviate many a stressful morning, giving me the perspective needed to finish out the work day with.
That's why I was so touched that, when I entered the room and picked him out amongst the wriggling mass of tiny moving body parts, his eyes met mine and he let out a smile that ran wider than the mighty Pacific.
Almost immediately he raised his arms over his head in triumph and shouted at the top of his lungs "Hey everybody! It's my Dad!" before sprinting over to me and leaping resolutely into my arms.
I have to say, that never gets old.
"You're happy to see me, Buddy?" I asked, beaming myself. This is the way it's supposed to be. The only thing better would have been to have it play out in slow-motion, with touching music. In the background I could hear the teacher calling out something authoritatively to the rest of the group.
There, in my arms, he again he raised his arms over his head and let out a enthusiastic "YES!"
But there was something different about this yes. It seemed more like a "Yes" of triumph. Then, I realized that he wasn't even looking at me. His eyes were fixed across the room, towards his friends.
"YES" he said again pumping his arms downwards - then up again. This was followed immediately by an equally enthusiastic "I DON'T HAVE TO CLEAN UP!"
Afterwords, he reached down and gave me a big hug around the head. He was definitely happy to see me.
In a perfect world, the music would have drowned out that last part. But I'm good with nearly perfect.
Posted by James (SeattleDad) at 9:19 PM