Summer is winding down. The first day of school is near. This time of year always brings, for me, the worst type of anxiety. I hate changing routines almost as much as my daughter. It fills me with dread. And this year is no different.
But I don’t want to talk about that now. I want to take a moment to reflect. I want to look, one more time, with awe at all the amazing things Mia has done this summer. I want to celebrate it all while still in summer’s midst. I want to look around me one more time before I turn all of this into memories and store it away. I want to look around us at Mia’s eighth summer before it becomes the past.To ease my anxiety I want to think about all of the wonderful moments this summer has offered my family.
In June, Mia turned seven.
She held her first sparkler.
For the first time ever she waited patiently in line at Les’ Dairy Bar next to a very busy street. Where she independently chose her own flavor and for the first time ordered her own ice cream cone. (And then decided she liked my flavor better.)
She learned to swim without her “floatie”.
She took her first walk down a busy street to the corner store by our house. And I was not worried about her bolting into the road.
She went to her first Amusement Park. She rode her first rollercoaster. And then did it ALL again.
She and I read her very first chapter book, “Little House in the Big Woods” by Laura Ingalls Wilder and journeyed back in time to the late 1800’s and the big woods of Wisconsin.
This was the first summer Mia allowed a dentist to look inside her mouth. No cavities.
She let me paint her nails, bright pink, for the first time.
She made her first internet purchase with my phone on eBay to the tune of twenty dollars for two animal figures. (And I learned a valuable lesson about password protecting EVERYTHING!)
She ate her first blueberry. She sampled her first orange. (Before it we’d be lucky if we could show her these items without her puking. Literally.)
Mia launched her first rocket with her father.
She got her very first Barbie. And then ten more.
She swam in the ocean, by herself, without her mother hovering, posed for action.
She told her first “Knock, knock” joke. And told it correctly, too.
(Mia: “Knock, knock.”
Me: “Whose there?”
Mia: “Interupting Cow.”
Me: “Interupting Cow w—“
Yes, Mia’s summer was great. And by extension so was mine. So much so I do not really feel like leaving it behind. But I am wise enough to know there is no stopping time. So instead of longing aimlessly for something I can not keep, I’m going to look ahead with wonder and hope (and a smidge of anxiety) towards the future. I’m excited to see what Mia’s eighth winter will bring.