Little

This week saw a couple of big transitions for young Andrew.  He graduated again at school.  Now he's in Toddler 2.  It's earlier than ideal, but the school moves a bunch of kids up to the next class every August when the oldest kids go off to regular elementary school.  Andrew was the 10th of 10 kids to move from his class.  He's doing fine, as usual.  I'm having some trouble.  Even the chairs are bigger in Toddler 2. 

Andrew also moved to a big boy bed on Saturday night.  "Bed" is a charitable description since it's just his crib mattress on the floor.  That seemed the best way to start: it's a gradual change for him, it's easier than buying furniture now and moving it in 3 months when the new house is ready, and it's free.  Mom likes free.

Most of the time, I'm excited -- and that's it -- at the milestones.  Occasionally, excitement has to co-exist with lumps in my throat.  This is one of those times.  "Little" is not a word I'd typically use to describe Andrew, but as I looked at him on his mattress on Saturday night, in the corner of his bedroom, that's all I could think.  He seemed a little nervous at the newness, or maybe that was just me, and a little unsure about how the night would go, or maybe that was just me too.  I didn't want him to feel scared or alone.  He just looked so little.  It's a big room, but not nearly as big as the world he's entering.  We'll start with the room.

He may as well be starting college as far as I'm concerned.

In happy news, Andrew discovered the beauty of the Saturday morning movie.