It's official. I am now the mother of a middle-schooler. Somehow, he is old enough to be in the sixth grade, yet I haven't aged a day.
conversation beginning about a half a mile from school this morning:
Nate: Are you going to go inside with me?
Me: It's up to you. It sounds like you have a handle on where you're supposed to go.
Nate: Well, I think some kids will be by themselves and I think some kids will be with their parents, so if you WANT to go inside with me I think that'll be ok.
Of course, I went inside. Probably the last chance I'll get to do that. Fortunately, I had on a cute dress and not the belly dancer outfit I had on yesterday (long story) which I threatened to wear when I drove him to school this morning. Nate was mortified by the belly dancer outfit, but the Pastor seemed to like it.
Nate will be fine. And as for me, I actually made it home before I started to cry, so I guess with the exception of belly dancing outfits I'm starting to grow up too.