My, how time flies as we celebrate the everyday

Remember this? Doesn't it seem like yesterday? (Think, "FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL! in a loud Nemo voice) Nine months has FLOWN!

And today, Brennan "graduated" from kindergarten. (Think, “It's not graduation! He's just moving from the fifth grade to the sixth grade…" in the voice of Mr. Incredible.)
Even though I think that any graduation, other then high school or college is silly, we were still there. However, had there been no graduation, I would have been okay. I think it is funny how we over celebrate every event in our children's lives. (Oh, wait. I just had TWO 1/2 birthdays for Ethan, complete with cake and a song :)

Do they get disappointed when a big deal is not made when they go from first grade to second grade? Hmmm...I will have to wait and see.

Overall, it was a great day. The families from the two classes picnicked under the trees by the tennis courts with a cool breeze blowing gently. This cool breeze was refreshing, but it did nothing to help my fantastic ten foot "Congratulations Wildcats" banner stay in place. (I don't have a picture of it because the camera was set on a weird setting and the pictures are too white) We dined on the traditional picnic fare: PB for Bren, ham and American cheese for Jack, ham and Swiss cheese for Bart, and chicken (the sandwich kind) and Havarti cheese for me.

Brennan and the other students ran around, saying goodbye and playing tag, sporting snazzy graduation caps made of plastic bowls, construction paper and a tassel of yarn. It was actually pretty cute and someone worked hard to make them.

It was fun to meet other parents, something that I miss from Mrs. Bockes' preschool days. We had to bring our child in and help them in preschool, so all the parents learned each others names and became friends. In kindergarten, the children are becoming independent and no longer need Mommy to help them hold the pencil properly or write their names. So, we parents only see each other in small glimpses. I passed out a lot of cards with our contact info on it so Brennan could have some play dates this summer. Now it is in the other parents hands!

Each child's name was called and they walked up to Ms. Weare, recieved a book about graduating, a certificate, and an official handshake. Well...all the children but Brennan walked. Brennan RAN to Ms. Weare. He is definetly going to miss her next year.

While we are on the subject of Ms. Weare, let me tell you...I have LOVED having her as Brennan's teacher. I have been able to be as involved as I could and did not feel like I was imposing. While my mom was up here for the birth of Ethan, she and I went in and did a Thanksgiving project with the kids. I did reading level tests all afternoon this spring and got to help out in reading groups last fall. I would have loved to have done more, but being pregnant and then having two littles ones made it a bit difficult, but when I could get a babysitter, I did. Ms. Weare was good at communicating with the parents, both through notes and emails (I love the internet!) and she really cared (I guess ;) about Brennan and his success. I am glad he had such a great first teacher...I wonder if he will remember Ms. Weare as long as I remember Mrs. Applegate, my kindergarten teacher.

Enjoy the slide show. It's just a few pictures of the picnic and before Brennan left for his first day of school.
Now, it's summer vacation, a time for sleeping in, being bored, and playing with friends. We're already off to a good start since one of his friends came over around 1:30 and is leaving around 5. We'll have to see how many playdates pan out from the cards...

So, this post, in my opinion, has kind of rambled and not really had a point.
I guess this is it.
I cannot believe Brennan is no longer a baby, preschooler, or little boy. He is fast approaching "Big Boy" phase, and it is getting harder and harder for me to find the tiny baby I once snuggled close with.
Good thing the tiny baby is being replaced with a smart (all perfects on his report card), funny, friendly young man.