The end of moments where his orbit is only family; the arc of his moods, willy-nilly with glee or tumbling with gloomy sorrow at some slight wrong, only ours to witness.
Now he's out there in the world, navigating friendships and expectations and the contents of his school lunch box. And it makes breath catch in my throat.
He has the sweetest teacher imaginable (who, by the way, volunteered to email me every single day to let me know how his day went--because I can never come to pick up to read the daily journal. How awesome is that?) And on his school days he wakes up early and full of smiles like bright slices of oranges.
Still.
And also, I think I'm feeling flutters of the baby kicking--but not regular flutters---and I am wondering when it's normal to start feeling regular movement? I can't remember what I felt last time--in fact the only thing I remember about my last pregnancy was my gag reflex in response to the smell of catfood; my hatred of maternity clothing, and very little else.