End of Monkey Summer

You’re 5 now, Monkey, which means a pretty big change for all of us. You won’t be around all day long, anymore. Day camps and whatnot aside, you’ve been a major presence — especially in Mommy’s life — since the moment you’d grown big enough that Mommy needed maternity clothes, and every day since then.

But it’s coming to an end. Your infancy, as it were, is nearly over. You’re about to go to kindergarten. You’re officially growing past us.

I’m a little sad about this, if you haven’t figured it out. You’ve been my little Monkey for so long, now. Ever since the day you first landed in my arms, and we stared at each other trying to figure out what had just happened, you’ve had me entirely. Lock, stock, and barrel. No reservations.

In a week, you start school. Real school. Every day. You’re going to meet a lot of new friends. You’re going to be learning all sorts of new things. I can’t even imagine what changes you’re going to go through in the next few months. You’re reading on your own, and able to bike without training wheels. You paint real pictures, sing real music, tell amazing stories.

In a way, it’s a little scary for me. I guess it’s a normal father thing when it comes to daughters. I feel like it’s my job to ... well, not so much protect you, but always be there for you. Be the one to help you, support you, cheer for you, teach you. You’ve been working on your independence already, much to my and Mommy’s extreme frustration at times, I have to say.

I don’t know what’s about to come. The uncertainty may keep me up at night. I’m afraid, Monkey. Afraid of losing you. It’s inevitable, I know. I’m being irrational. This is way things are, the way things will always be from now on. It’s life. You’ll always be my little girl, but more importantly, you’ll be more yourself with each day.

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