We walked through the door hand-in-hand, just as we have for the past few years. She unzipped her coat, glanced up at me, and said, "I don't want to go with you," as she carefully hung her jacket on the hook in the Big Kids' Room.
She's one of them now. The Big Kids.
In the ten seconds it took to walk into the kitchen to place her lunch in the fridge, days long gone by flashed through my mind.
There was a time when she was the youngest of the kids. I carried her in every day and passed her to the waiting arms of a caregiver.
There was a time when she did a Frankenstein-walk into the One-Year Old Room as I fought with baby gates and child containment systems along the way.
There was a time when I would bribe The Toddler to go to a teacher so that I could get to work on time.
There was a time when swarms of kids would gather round as she walked into the room with the other Preschoolers.
I returned to the Big Kids Room and looked on as Alexis stood talking to another girl. As she showed off her freshly-painted fingernails and poofy blue skirt, time stood still.
In those ten seconds, everything had changed.
There were no tears.
There was no hug and kiss goodbye.
There was just an independent Big Kid who, for the first time ever, hadn't walked with her momma to the kitchen to put her lunch away.
It goes by so fast.
