My daughter was once a reserved toddler who wanted nothing more than my constant presence. It was heartwarming to witness her attachment to me, yet I yearned for her to become more outgoing and joyful. Unfortunately, she wasn’t.
At age two, dropping her off at her early childhood class was a tearful affair—she cried every single day. By three, the tears subsided, but she would retreat to a corner, quietly observing her surroundings. Throughout those two years, her teachers reassured me that she was adjusting, though it was a slow process.
Then the pandemic changed everything, and she was back at home with me, which made me anxious about her return to in-person kindergarten. With new teachers, friends, and protocols, I knew she would face significant changes. I could no longer walk her to class; instead, she would be greeted by a teacher, have her temperature checked, and head down the stairs on her own.
For weeks, I mourned the impending separation. It would be the first time in four years that we would be apart for seven and a half hours each day, five days a week. My days as a stay-at-home mom were coming to an end, and I found myself wishing for summer to last forever.
The day finally arrived, and I had already met her teacher and explored her new kindergarten classroom with her. She proudly showcased her uniform to her dad and picked out a bow and new shoes for the occasion. Unlike her brothers, she was determined to walk in on her own. As I took a deep breath and said, “I love you, have the best day,” she kissed me goodbye and was off—no tears, no lingering glances back. My little girl was brave and eager, and my heart swelled with pride. I didn’t cry; I felt happiness for her. She had truly blossomed.
In lighthearted moments, I ask her if she misses me while at school, to which she responds with a casual, “No. Why would I miss you?” And honestly, she shouldn’t. I want her to embrace every moment, make friends, and learn new things. Each day, I see how much she is growing and changing.
Fortunately, I still play a role in her world. We enjoy playtime with her dolls, wear matching outfits, and she still lets me choose her bows and the occasional sweater. Yet, I recognize how quickly time passes. Just as she no longer misses me at kindergarten, I know that her dependence on me will diminish as she grows. The Velcro shoes will be replaced with laces, bows will give way to scrunchies, and her colorful lunch box and backpack will eventually become a simple paper bag.
It’s all gone by so swiftly. The little girl I used to hold tightly in my arms now needs me less and less each day. But I need her just as much. She may share my heart with her three brothers, but as my youngest, she tugs on my heartstrings a little more intensely.
I won’t dwell in the past; instead, I will cherish the present and look forward to the future. Before I know it, she will be spreading her wings and leaving the nest for good. If I do my job well until that day comes, perhaps she’ll miss me—just a little.
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In summary, while my daughter is becoming increasingly independent, I cherish every moment we share and embrace the changes ahead. Though she may not need me as much, my love for her remains unwavering.