As many of you know, I am utterly, hopelessly smitten with and addicted to Pinterest. I pin fashion ideas, pictures I love, recipes, decorating ideas, crafty crafts, baby things, toddler things, you name it. Oh, the things you'll pin!
Months ago, I pinned this image.
It was accompanied by this idea:
Buy this book, then at the end of each school year have your child's teachers, coaches or other important mentors sign it or write notes in it. Give it to them upon HS graduation. Love it.
Well, damn. That is a great idea. I decided instantly that I would do it. (Lest you give me too much credit, when you're addicted to Pinterest, you "instantly decide" to do a lot lot lot of things. Whether you actually do them? Remains to be seen.)
However, my brain kept percolating about this idea. I kept thinking what a great book it is. And how often I've given it as a graduation gift over the years. And how it contains Totally Awesome Nuggets of Life Wisdom, like this one:
So, lo and behold, I managed to get over the one hurdle to accomplishing this (ahem). I bought the book. I sat down to figure out the best way to present it to the teachers at Jack's daycare, and decided that if I was asking them to write in a book, then I might as well start things off.
Here's what I said:
I took it to daycare the next day, excited but slightly apprehensive about the response I would get. Look, I try hard to forge good relationships with Jack's teachers. And for the overwhelmingly large part, I have been very successful. And I do believe that they really love Jack. But what if they thought this idea was weird? Or what if they wrote things like, "Best wishes, Love, X?"
I shouldn't have worried. As the book was passed from teacher to teacher, per my request, the buzz amongst them was very real. They were so excited with the project. They were excited to see who would get the book next. They very diligently thought over their messages, wrote them, and shared the book. When they were finished (I've now caught up with every teacher Jack has had thus far in his life; not too shabby), they gave it back.
I took it home like a yearbook that's been circulating. What will they say? Do they like me? What did they write?
Out of respect for the fact that their messages were to Jack, I won't share them. But, y'all. (I've lived in Texas for a decade. It happens. If you didn't catch that, nevermind.) Y'ALL. Tears. They wrote the sweetest things. They love Jack so much. Their sentiments were poetic, sincere, loving, aspirational, and totally moving.
I would never wish for the precious time of Jack's life to pass more quickly. And I love his current teachers, so will have serious mama heartburn when he gets promoted to the next classroom. But on the other hand, I am so excited to see what his future teachers will write, as he grows, learns, speaks in sentences, pees in the potty. And, for that matter, as they held to shape him into the Little Dude he is.
It's big stuff. All you mamas out there, I can't recommend this highly enough.
And, as if we hadn't enough proof of Dr. Seuss's awesomeness, there is a sentiment for just how this made me feel.
Smiling. For sure,