Memories

We have a second-grader in the house.  I can hardly believe it.  I swear it was just yesterday that I was counting down the months until Elena would be old enough to go to Mother's Day Out for a precious few hours a day.  The whole getting older thing really doesn't freak me out much, but something else does.  It's the memories.

My real memories of growing up start right around second grade.  Sure, I can remember snippets here and there from my younger years, but the real memories? Rock solid from second grade on.  I remember moving from Fort Wayne to Noblesville, and leaving behind my right hand man, Jamie.  I never found anyone else willing to play hour upon hour of Dukes of Hazzard or Fox and the Hound again.  I remember eating orange sherbet in school for a classmate's birthday and then upchucking it all over my desk and shoes. I remember watching Devo's "Whip It" on MTV, and knowing, even then, those boys weren't quite right.

Knowing all that, it makes me oddly uncomfortable that from this point on, Elena's watching.  And she's taking notes.  Surely I can be on my best behavior for, oh, what?  The next eleven years?  Probably not, but hopefully she'll remember that we started the first day of second grade out right.

I continued last year's tradition and made Elena a Schultüte for the first day of school.  In honor of her love for all thing kitty, I made it in a snazzy leopard print.

I think she liked it.

 

I filled it with little trinkets, some related to school, some not.  I'm a sucker for anything shrunken down into a teeny tiny version of itself, like these composition books.  Me thinks the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

 

I also threw in some leftover swag from BlogHer.  Admit it, you're totally jealous of this bit of swag.  You're booking your trip to next year's BlogHer just so you can get your hands on one of these.

 

I remember our house in Indiana and driving back and forth across town to school every day.  I remember playing Warriors and Star Wars and Super Mario with my friends on the playground.  I remember seeing Lady Gaga, and knowing, even then, that gal wasn't quite right.

Enjoy second grade, girlfriend, and here's to a year full of memories.