Guess what? You graduated from pre-K.
You say “guess what” constantly to get attention and start communicating about whatever is your mind. As it turns out, you’re also a budding poet. Here’s your poem that your teacher read at your “Moving on” ceremony:
I am an Italian boy.
I love watching shows.
I wonder about my kitty.
I need lots and lots of food!
I dream of Monster Jam!
I feel like sometimes I am mad, or sad, or happy.
I hope my kitty grows up.
When I grow up I want to be a Monster Jam driver.
I am an Italian boy.
You are clear and consistent in that literary self portrait.
Some of the biggest joys of parenting come in cliches, like graduations. It’s unavoidable to feel emotion about the conclusion of something and the start of something. The pride is expected and uncontrollable.
Next school year, you’ll be in full day kindergarten, taking the bus to school with your sister five days a week. For your Mom and me, this is the last of a routine hanging out just with you. It was a great run, and I’ll miss you running into my office during one of my video meetings to ask where Luna is hiding. Clothing always optional.
Congratulations on your graduation my Italian boy!
Love, Dad