Dear Mia and Leo,
This morning, as I woke up, the thought of you both stepping into a new school year at a fresh school held my attention for a moment. Today marks the beginning of another exciting chapter in your lives, and while we went through our morning routine, I felt a surge of things I wanted to share with you. Some of these ideas we’ve discussed before, but as your mom, I can’t resist saying them again—just in case you missed them the first time.
As I tiptoed into your room and gently kissed your foreheads to wake you up, I wanted to remind you that being the new kid can be tough. I know those butterflies in your stomach and the thoughts of making new friends. Always trust in yourself; I believe in you wholeheartedly.
While you rubbed the sleep from your eyes and stretched your little limbs, I thought about how finding your way—both geographically and socially—can be daunting. You’ll spend your life navigating new paths, so remember, persistence is key.
Standing by the bathroom door as you brushed your teeth, I wished I could tell you that while being the new kid might feel like a disadvantage, it can also be a unique advantage. Embrace this adventure; it’s full of potential.
As I carefully laid out your clothes, I wanted you to know that other kids will be drawn to your spirit. Some might not accept you, and that’s okay—it’ll be their loss.
Preparing your lunch at the counter, I encouraged you to face this new experience with optimism. Though it may feel strange and a bit scary today, soon it will become routine. That’s just how life flows.
I included a little note in your lunchbox, a family tradition. I wished I could tell you that wearing a smile can open doors to friendships. It’s said a picture is worth a thousand words; I believe a smile speaks volumes.
As you sat at the counter enjoying your breakfast, I wanted you to remember that if you find yourself in an uncomfortable situation today, just take a deep breath. Sometimes, a couple of breaths can change your perspective entirely.
While I helped you tie your shoes, I wanted to share that all you need is one true friend. Quality over quantity always wins.
When I placed your backpacks on your small shoulders, my heart felt torn. Part of me wanted to keep you home where I could protect you, while another part urged you to seek experiences beyond what I can provide. Just promise me you won’t rush growing up.
As we got into the car, I prayed that the people you meet today would see the wonderful qualities I see in you—intelligence, kindness, humor, and creativity. Most importantly, I hope you see those things in yourself.
Buckling your seatbelts, I reminded you that not everyone will share your interests. Embrace those differences; they might surprise you in the best way.
Adjusting the mirrors, I caught a glimpse of you both in the backseat and wanted to say: be patient with yourselves and others. Time has a way of guiding us through both the small and significant moments.
As I backed out of the driveway, I wanted to encourage you to not shy away from trying new things. That’s the beauty of a fresh start.
On the short drive to school, I wanted to tell you to really listen when your teacher speaks or when classmates share their stories. Good listening is a skill that will serve you well throughout life.
As I pulled into the drop-off zone, I wanted to remind you to follow instructions, but also to make your voice heard. Expressing yourself is just as important.
Finally, as you both hopped out of the car, I gave you each a kiss and a hug, saying, “Just be yourselves, and remember how much I love you. I can’t wait to hear about your day later.”
After all, that’s all you really need to know.
Love, Mom
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