As I sit here writing this late on a Sunday night/early on a Monday morning, we’re on the brink of a major life moment.

That’s probably why I’m having trouble sleeping.

In just a few hours, Beanie will start kindergarten.

How in the world did five full years fly by so quickly? How are The Best Mom and I parents of a kindergartner?

Look…your kids are your kids for your entire life. I get that.

But there is only a finite amount of time before they go out into the world, the product of their parents.

And while the REAL venture into the world is still approximately 13 or 17 years away, depending on when you stop counting, this is a big effing milestone on the journey. And one where our Beanie begins to peel away from us.

Sure, she’s been in daycare since she was nine weeks old. But the daycare was in my wife’s office building. And she was surrounded by teachers, friends, and parents she had known since she had been there. Basically, in her entire conscious life, she has never faced a restart like she is going to face by the time you read this.

I remember every single moment of the day she was born – which is a great story for another time. But there are two particular moments from that day that I think about often.

Beanie was being examined on the warming table. I tried to check on The Best Mom who was still in the bed and Beanie reached her hand out to stop me from leaving her side. Just minutes old, she squeezed my finger at the sound of my voice. Later, when the doctors and nurses cleared out of the room, I shared a quiet moment with my daughter. I left her up and touched our noses. We still do that today.

Now, a heartbeat later, our little Bean is starting a new chapter in her life. New adventures await. New things to explore.

And for parents, kindergarten brings new challenges, too. New school. New teachers. New routines. New letting go.

My first baby is going to kindergarten. And every time I look at her, I want to cradle her like I did that first night, give her a nosy, and rock her to sleep on my shoulder.

But I can’t. It’s time to let her go. And come home after school to tell me about all things she learned and all the friends she made. I may sneak in a nosy.