It happened much more quickly than I'd anticipated, but when the Holy Spirit prods, you move.
Today was Sophia's last day of public school. (I won't say never, but hopefully forever.) Initially, my husband and I had planned to have her finish out the week, but she begged us the last couple of days to bring her home right away, and so we spoke to her teacher, and now our world is spinning on the axis of dulce domum again.
It was, as last days go, a splendid one. Since it happened to be her "half birthday," the class celebrated Sophia with a paper crown and special song. We brought in 2 dozen donuts for snack. Half of them were Seahawks-sprinkled, thank you very much. Go Hawks!
I'll admit to feeling a bittersweet pang along with the giddy leap in my stomach when she walked out with her backpack and a bag full of her school supplies and projects, but Sophia wasn't phased. She had a playdate with a classmate to get to, and so we all walked home together, a big happy group, to play.
Tea parties, pretend puppies, and playhouses rounded out the afternoon.
We sit in the quiet of sunset, and I snuggle up with my girl.
"How are you feeling?" I ask, a hint of trepidation in my voice. Not sure if that self-doubt will ever quite go away. "How do you feel about having school at home again?"
Sophia smiles, delighted.
"Happy," she says.