How nice would it be to be five again.
To have a new best friend every week. To eat popsicles for breakfast. And wear princess dresses wherever and whenever you wanted.
To wish for toys. And crawl up onto your mama's lap whenever you felt unsure or afraid.
To be told when you had to go to bed, what you had to eat, and where you had to go. To be nagged not to pick your nose, not to kick your brother, and to sit up the right way in your seat.
To be told when you had to go to bed, what you had to eat, and where you had to go. To be nagged not to pick your nose, not to kick your brother, and to sit up the right way in your seat.
I'm preparing to work at a camp for pre-schoolers in a little over a week. I ordered craft supplies today. And magnifying glasses. And color paddles.
I'm teaching E old camp songs and prepping the kids for what it will be like when I am the teacher and not just their mama.
I'm teaching E old camp songs and prepping the kids for what it will be like when I am the teacher and not just their mama.
I am excited. And already exhausted. But most of all, I think, I am remembering how much fun and how much work it is to be 4. Or 5. Or 3. When so much is still new and everything is an opportunity. When the littlest thing can make you laugh and someone looking at you the wrong way can hurt your feelings.
This is the sweetest post, Julia. It made me tear up!
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