A mere week after my darling son decided he was ready to ride the bus, he hit me with this little gem on Monday evening:

“Tomorrow, can I walk down to the bus stop by myself?  And then, after school when the bus drops me off, can I walk home by myself too?”

gulp

“Sure, sweety.  If you feel ready.”

Inside?  I panicked.  Sure, I’d just told him days before that if he ever felt ready to go to the bus without me, to let me know and that would be all cool.  But faced with the reality of a child that would be walking down to the bottom of the cul-de-sac and around the corner WITHOUT ME, I started to fret.  I suggested that I could watch him walk down to the corner from the front of the house and he agreed to that.  But once down to the corner, I wouldn’t be able to see the bus stop or watch him get on the bus or ANYTHING.  He would be standing down there with the other kids for a good 5 to 10 minutes without adult supervision!  And then, the bus would drop him off in the afternoon and he’d just walk home.  ALONE.  Again, no supervision.

gulp

Of course, I presented nothing but a positive front to him and Tuesday morning he walked out the door and didn’t look back. I watched until I couldn’t spot the top of his head any longer.  Then, there was nothing left to do but go back inside and get Liam his breakfast.  And fret.  At 3:30 that afternoon, when school gets out, I made sure the front door was unlocked and proceeded to keep an eye on the clock for the next 15-20 minutes until Harry came through the front door.  Just like that.  All by himself.

I’m pretty danged proud of him, but also freaked the heck out.  HOW did I get to the point where I have a son who is old enough to do these things without me?  The independence is important, I know that, but it’s a hard adjustment.  And it doesn’t help that it feel like it was two minutes ago that he was a helpless little toddler.  I spent the last 8 years taking care of this kid, making sure he’s safe and well-cared for.  And all of the sudden I’m just supposed to let go?  And be ok with that?  Time is not kind to us mothers.  It keeps marching on when we’d most like to take a minute to catch our breaths.

And, darnit all, I feel old.