The day I’ve been dreading is quickly approaching. As I’ve already chronicled on this blog several times, our dear babysitter, Esperanza, is retiring at the end of next week. As the fateful day approaches, my anxiety is nearing record-high levels.
We had a bit of a scare tonight. Sophie couldn’t find her two towels. They’d been missing since yesterday.
With much anticipation we made our way to Chloe’s camp for visiting day this morning. When we arrived, Chloe and her friends were looking out the back window of the bunk, waiting eagerly for their families to arrive.
That another school year is just about over. That Chloe will be starting middle school in the fall. That Sophie will be a second grader.
That Chloe will be leaving us in less than two weeks for a month of sleepaway camp. That it’s almost officially summer.
Nanny and Poppy paid us a visit last night, recounting for posterity, via DVD, their lives. How Poppy came to the US from Russia in 1929, how they met as teenagers, how Nanny as a young girl worked to help support her family, how their happiest day was the day Poppy returned home from World War II, how Poppy lost a few thousand dollars playing blackjack with the Shah of Iran. Oh, the stories.
When I found out that Maurice Sendak died today, I was sad. I don’t tend to wallow in nostalgia when a famous person I’ve never met dies, but I made an exception in this case. Because when I heard the news, a little piece of the child left in me died with him.
The other night, our beloved babysitter, Esperanza, announced that she was planning to retire in October. I knew the day would eventually arrive, but I still cried when she told me. We lovingly refer to her as the girls’ second grandmother.
The wicked witch is dead. Dead as a doornail, lying somewhere at the bottom of the sea. It feels odd to celebrate the death of a person, but he wasn’t really a person, was he? He truly was evil incarnate. Good riddance.
Kindergarten. The day is finally upon us. Little Sophie is starting kindergarten tomorrow at the tender age of 4 years and 351 days.
My father died 10 years ago today. He was 57 years old. Hard to believe that it’s been so long. It feels like it happened yesterday and I remember everything about that night. Everything.