Okay, so this picture of Genevieve was taken in 2004, but that was only a year or two... or three.... or FOUR ago! Yikes. Time flies, and this mom was just flabbergasted to be standing at the elementary school desk this morning registering her BABY for kindergarten. My youngest child will be in school next year! Good grief. For one thing, she's not that old. For another, neither am I. Believable or not, I was filling out Genevieve's registration forms for full-day kindergarten, and she and Eleanor will be skipping to the bus stop together next fall.

Now, to be fair, Sarah starts middle school next year, too. She won't be at the bus stop, because she'll be riding her bike to school on her own. One would think that information should be sending me into where-did-the-time-go hysteria, instead. But no - I think we mothers have a way of measuring our days based upon our youngest child. Somehow, they are the ones who remind us that there will be no more children as little as this one, that this moment - right NOW! - is the most important moment because it's never happening again.

Sarah and I went to Borders yesterday, after the littles were in bed (and Dave was in relatively little danger of being accosted by sneaky little children trying to avoid their beds with last-minute requests for glasses of water, etc.). The books that Sarah wants aren't always in the kids section anymore; although I suppose that's been true for a while, now. She was thrilled to be a) in a bookstore b) there after 7 p.m. and c) free from her little sisters for a while. We went to a local coffee shop afterwards, and Sarah was sworn to secrecy about her late-night snacks as she sipped a strawberry smoothie and munched her pumpkin bread. It would be that much harder to get the littles to bed if they thought they were missing smoothies and pumpkin bread and mommy-alone-time, let alone the suddenly coveted water they ask for every night. We talked about books and school, and Sarah looked and acted like a grown-up. Okay, so maybe Sarah contributes a little to my where-did-the-time-go feeling.

Eleanor's progress is best viewed through her amazing changes in language, behavior, and size. She has grown out of everything she began wearing when we adopted her, even the things that were huge on her then. This is somewhat unsurprising given that she has an expandable hollow leg. She must have a hollow leg, since she eats more than Dave and I combined. Before and after school time is just one never-ending request for apples, tangerines, yogurt, popcorn, soup, crackers, you name it. She also discovered the a-la-carte option at school lunch, and was surprised that we knew she was going back for more food (we then explained that the school does, indeed, ask for money to pay for her snack excursions). I would wonder where it all went, except that I can no longer count the ribs on her back, she has healthy-looking thighs, and pinchable cheeks now. Her hair is growing thick and fast, and she tells me about how fast she can run. She doesn't look like an orphan anymore. The emotional breakdowns have all but stopped, and she's just a happy, healthy kid. She teaches me to be grateful for the basics.

I will go to pick up Genevieve from preschool now; she's been insisting on wearing a tiara and a blue beaded necklace to school every day for the past week. We may want to work on that before kindergarten. Then again, I may just enjoy the tiara-wearing girl for as long as possible.