Kindergarten: The First Brave Steps

Big black tires slow,
Screeching breaks, it's time to go.
Kindergarten. Whoa.


I can't believe I am saying this, but my boys started kindergarten today. Those two little preemie fighters I was just snuggling in the NICU got on the school bus and drove off to their next big chapter of childhood.

I have been thinking about this day for a while and feeling so excited for them, and (let's face it) for me. I don't feel sad to "lose" them, rather proud of who they have become and the energy and love poured into getting them to this place. It is an accomplishment for both them and for me. One which I readily celebrated today.

But one thing that lingered with me for the past several weeks was actually spurred by a game of Candy Land. Now, this was my favorite game as a child: The winding colorful path of sweet squares punctuated by sugary surprises, culminating in the greatest candy castle one could imagine. I love that my kids love this game as much as I still do.

If you've ever played Candy Land, you know that sometimes two little gingerbread player pieces wind up on the same square at the same time. This gets a little tricky as they don't fit well at the same time. Well, this is exactly what happened during one of our recent games. The boys both wound up on the same blue square. Anyone familiar with 5 year old brothers would know that this could turn into a battle of who gets the spot, where the other has to wait, and who gets to "cut" to the next blue space, conveniently bending the rules to advance further.

I braced for the battle, but to my surprise, the boys said "Yay! We're on the space together! Let's share it like this!" And they each slid their pieces right up next to the other as if their gingerbread men were holding hands walking the colorful path. Together. I couldn't help but snap a picture because, well, it was more than a moment in game play for me.

You see, I knew my boys would be great in school and would find their own way. I wanted them to have independence, to grow into their own identities, and to encounter unique experiences in school. But, I wondered, in different classes and making different friends, would they lose a bit of their twin bond in the process?

Would they sit together on the bus? Wave hi, happily, in the hallway? Stand up for each other on the playground? After spending their time apart for several hours a day, would they look forward to reuniting? Would the love and connection they were born with and that was nurtured for the past 5 years still be their safe space? Would each be a lighthouse for the other, shining to guide his brother home?

These two little gingerbread men stayed in my mind and heart for a while, giving me some simple hope that the closeness on the game board would translate to the wide hallways of their elementary school.

This morning I got my answer.

It was the first day of kindergarten. As we dressed in matching outfits at their request, donned our backpacks and staged our photo shoots, the boys had glorious smiles that spoke volumes. These boys were ready. I knew it and they knew it, too. So we set off down the street, strolling to the stop sign where our big yellow school bus would arrive shortly. We've spent 5 years watching the other "big kids" come on and off the bus every day. It was finally our turn to meet at the corner.

As the bus approached, we gave our last big hugs and words of encouragement for this monumental moment. The door squealed open, and our bigger boy neighbors led the march to the steps. Cameron and Joshua suddenly paused. Their smiles and excitement and carefree morning came to a screeching halt with those big black wheels.

This was it. Time to get on.

I confidently called out: "Go ahead. Follow the big boys. You're going to be great."

Without another moment's hesitation, my sweet baby boys stepped close together, grabbed each other by the hand, and took their first braves steps into the world. Together.