The Hurdles

I just watched the Olympic hurdles.  It’s a sport that completely makes my palms sweat — I guess because I am so uncoordinated that I envision myself face planting while trying to run them. But the Olympians fly over them with such incredible grace and speed.  It truly is an amazing sight that takes my breath away.

My youngest son has faced many hurdles in his life, too. A difficult birth. Numerous ear infections. Three sets of tubes. Speech therapy.  Scans. Doctors.  And so far, he has amazed nearly everyone by managing to fly over them with his own version of grace and speed.  He’s an extremely bright boy who has overcome many, many odds.  I look into his stubborn little blue eyes and have to smile.  And yet, this week, I am holding my breath as he faces yet another hurdle:

Kindergarten.

My baby boy starts kindergarten this week. He’s my last child to enter school and in a way, I’m a little bit worried.

I pray he gets a very strong and compassionate teacher. He needs that. The people in his life who don’t cut him slack are the ones who have made the biggest difference for him.  And I am glad that his mother won’t be far away from him at all times.

I won’t be able to see him go into school for the first time (like I did the other two boys.) But I have faith he’ll get across the next hurdle with his usual quirky grace and speed.  But please forgive me as my palms begin to sweat once more.  Watching the hurdles always has always made me nervous.