Four = the number of pairs of jeans Knox owns with holes worn through the knees. The most recently purchased pair of dark denim bootcut Levis are laying in that pile. He hurries in the morning to get dressed and almost always grabs one of them so that his left knee, with the perpetual scab and bruises pokes through abruptly. He’s growing a lot lately, getting taller each day. I make a mental note each morning to pick up a new pair or two for him at the store as we walk out the door.
This week happens to be kindergarten round up for our school district, and from my Facebook newsfeed it looks like it’s happening in other places, too. It’s still weird to think that is where we are in our life. It was just a blink since yesterday when he learned to walk. With Knox’s birthday being in mid-August and the birthday enrollment cut-off just a few weeks after that we have spent many evenings debating our decision about whether to start him this year or next. There are many pros and cons to both sides. He excels at many things, but he’s still working on some others as well. I probably invested too much time in weighing our decision. I honestly believe that he would do okay in school. Lots of kids start school with far less practice than he’s gotten through preschool and they survive. But I want Knox to thrive. So we’ll take this year to enjoy being small for a little while longer.
We’ll continue to color outside the lines with round fat Crayola markers and sing silly songs about snakes and slugs, and make up words for things that we only see in our dreams, like three-headed purple princess dragons and knights who wear capes and carry silver swords on their backs. We’ll jump and leap and bound and and run so fast that our toes just barely skim the ground.
But should he tumble and fall, collecting dirt and rocks on the knobby tops of his knees… I’ll always be the one to cradle my baby boy… my BIG boy, and brush them off and kiss them all better.