I got a phone call from Joseph’s preschool teacher this morning.
“Joseph has asked to perform a solo at our graduation ceremony.”
“Joseph? My Joseph?”
“I don’t want to discourage him, but I thought you’d want to know so you can help him practice.”
I thanked her and hung up the phone. My Joseph wants to perform a solo? The little boy who runs and hides under the dining room table when the door bell rings? The little boy who buries himself behind my back when we approach a new playgroup? This little boy wants to stand in front of his friends and their parents and sing? A solo?
I went home and casually brought it up.
“Miss Jeri said you wanted to sing a song at your graduation.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Do you have any idea what song you want to sing?” I asked neutrally.
“No. I’m going to make one up,” he replied as he ran off to play with his Legos.
Oh dear Lord.
Chad looked at me with a frown on his face, “What should we do?”
The encouraging part of me wants to applaud his courage and creativity. The fearful part of me wants to talk him out of it. Taking a deep breath, I looked at Chad, my face mirroring his worry, “We let him do it. And we applaud like crazy people.”
The hardest part of motherhood, for me, is letting my babies spread their wings. At some point, they need to learn to fly. And the best I can do is be there to catch them if they fall and to cheer them when they soar.
