Last Day

It’s happening, guys. It’s really happening. Vincenzo graduates in two days! He had his last day of school today.

Hold on, let’s back up a minute. Here we are with Vincenzo, just days old, outside our front door.

And here we are now.

Minutes ago we walked through those front doors and put Vincenzo on the living room floor and asked each other, “Wait, are you supposed to put newborn babies on the floor?” We sat there, watching the baby to see what he would do next. Wondering how handy our cat-parenting skills would come in.  Feeling still like Rachel and Kevin, even with such undeniable proof that we were now Mom and Dad. Thinking fate must have made some mistake to put such a tiny, precious thing in our care. Deciding that maybe we should at least put a blanket under the baby, if he was going to be on the floor with all the cat hair.

And then a whole bunch of life happened, the big and little moments, and they were amazing and mundane and ridiculous. He signed his first signs, said his first words, ate his first ice cream cone.

We celebrated his first steps. I helped him tuck his lost teeth beneath his pillows. I buttoned his capes; read Alice in Wonderland to him a dozen times; showed him how to press dirt around a seed in the garden.

We went through the baby group phase, the museum years, the thematic birthday parties and sleepovers. New teeth grew in. We started venturing farther from home. There were sleep away camps, baby sitters, then babysitting. Family movie nights turned into midnight volleyball games with his friends. Monopoly games with his brothers turned into poker games with The Squad.

I don’t know how it happened, and yet, I do. We have the stories, the pictures, the blog posts. The memories we tell over and over. “Remember that time when…”

It was minutes ago that we first brought Vincenzo through our front door.

9,460,800 minutes ago.

9,460,800 minutes of watching what the baby will do next and celebrating every new step.

Pictures from Senior Farewell Night.

More, of course, to come. (And this time, I think I’ll do the ironing.)