Dear Kid,

Tomorrow we take you to college.

WHAT??? You can’t possibly be old enough. You are barely in Kindergarten. You are a mere little child. You can’t cross the street by yourself.

We are embarking on a journey toward the next stage in your life (and an attempt to fill the car with more square inches of cargo than it can handle) and I have great confidence you will do fine fabulously. I’m even reasonably confident we can get the car packed.

WHAT???? You can’t lift things that are bigger than you are into the car! Where is your car seat? Where is the stool you stand on to brush your teeth? The baby backpack! Where is the baby backpack???

We will miss you around here. You are a grilling chef extraordinaire. And you are handy for opening stuck jars and reaching things on high shelves. You’re also a pretty fun guy to hang out with. The friends you are about to meet at college are lucky people.

Legos. Don’t you need thousands of legos? What about fat markers? School always starts with fat markers and a box of tissues. OK. What about transformers? Or a Little League uniform? Not Little League. Junior Hockey?

 I am so proud of you and all you have accomplished so far. I am almost as excited as you are about The College Chapter.

Who will cut your food in little pieces? Or carry you upstairs to bed if you fall asleep into your food? This can’t possibly be happening.

I think I need an ice pack.

Love, Mom