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Dear Son,

It’s almost Term 4. I am mindful there are less “lasts” now.

It’s coming to an end - your last year of Primary School. From day one of Term One, there have been many “lasts”. Your last first day of Primary school, last school photos with your brother, your last dress up book week parade (Ps – you went out with a bang mate).

And I know there is more to come – and not just school related.

The “last” Primary School Sports and Mercy Days

The “last” sounds of you and friends on the trampoline outside

The “last” after school request of “I’m hungry” being replaced by complete silence.

The “last” of shopping in the toy section for your birthday present.

I know you know me, and understand I cry at the littlest things. I cry when our goalie misses a penalty shootout, I cry when I go to community prayer and see you dancing with your mates to the liturgy songs. I cry at Market Monday.

Let’s keep it real, I cry at the end of Lego Masters each week.

But, as the “lasts” become smaller, the window of “firsts” becomes bigger. And I am already seeing them now. First big school camp, first new uniform try on, first subject selection. My favourite – the “first” stack of bikes in our front yard marking the territory of the BMX bandits and the glimmer of independence has arrived.

The “lasts” are now scattered with the “firsts” - And the tears become less frequent. I guess that is part of this process as Primary School comes to an end.

You, and all your year level, have jumped at every opportunity that has been presented this year. You have tried it all, not missed a beat. How lucky we are to be watching this growth.

Trying these things means you are ready – for that next step. You are ready to see what the big world has in store for you.

So, thank you – for giving Dad and I all these “firsts” and giving us all these “lasts”. I promise you we will soak up each moment of every “last” and get excited for all the “firsts”.

But please, keep that wonderful pile of bikes on my front lawn each weekend. And just remember, look at Dad in the graduation mass, not me.

Love Mum