Here is the intrepid student on his way to Kindergarten. He was fine. Once we got the backpack out the door, that is.
He woke up on his own while Elder Child and I were discussing breakfast options. He got dressed on his own in his little uniform (7 slim shorts that are still a bit too baggy -- are we sure he's my kid?) while I made his bed. I had to tie his shoes for him, but he was pretty self-sufficient. He carried his own backpack to the car.
He didn't want his picture taken when we left the house, so that's why this is from the back. Once we got to school I told him I'd carry the backpack if he let me take a picture so I could tell how much he's grown later.
Meanwhile, Elder Child hopped out of the car, grabbed his extra bag of school supplies and took off. I saw his best friend's mom in the hallway later and asked if her son let her walk him in. She said yes, and that my kid walked in with them. So, apparently, she's the cool mom. That, or he was too excited to see his friend. Either way, that's fine with me. He's a junior high kid now. But I think we went through the big trauma last year, I really do. Last night, after I'd said goodnight to him, he came to me and gave me a big hug and told me he'd had a great summer. He said he was excited for a clean slate and a fresh start.
They're both fine. I know that. And I was OK. Until I left the parking lot. At which time I was really glad I took the whole day off.