To say I’m pleasantly surprised would be an understatement.
A huge understatement.
And honestly, after 21 years of mothering, it’s kinda hard to surprise me.
But Jude? He did.
All morning he couldn’t wait for the bus to come. Over and over he asked if it was time to get dressed.
Time to pack his snack of Scooby-Doo fruit snacks and an apple juice box.
Honestly, I kept waiting for fear and/or anxiety about the reality of leaving home on a big yellow bus, to ride to someplace he’s only been to a handful of times, to spend an afternoon with a woman he’s only met twice, with a bunch of kids he’s never met, to grip him.
And for him to wrap his arms and legs around me and never let go.
But that never happened.
In fact, he waited expectantly for the bus to arrive. When it pulled up, he climbed up the big ol’ stairs, jumped up in the big ol’ seat and then,
Suddenly, he looked way too tiny to be leaving my side.
And my heart almost burst. With love. With pride.
For all he’s endured.
For all he’s become.
For all he will certainly be.