Bug's first day of school

Like his younger brother, today is Bug's first day of school.
I look at him, and I see excitement and fear and determination.
I'm sure he sees the same when he looks to me and his father.
I got he and his brother up, helped Bug dress and gave him a hearty breakfast, all the while smiling and trying not to grab him and cry.
I fought to tame allthree of his cowlicks so he'd look nice for the first few minutes of his school day, running my hands over his hair more times than necessary to reassure myself.
Th Man and I pack our boys into the van. For Boo, it's just another day. It's old hat to him now.
For Bug, it's a car ride that seems to last forever. I see him craining for that first view of his school and of potential new friends.
We take our middle son to his class, leaving him to his newly comfortable surrounding, friends, and schedule, and begin the walk down the hall to Bug's classroom.
I feel his little hand in mine, slightly sweaty and holding a tad tighter than usual. I brush my hands through his hair, trying to smooth his cowlick for the 800th time that morning. I listen to The Man babble about what we're seeing around us. (When stressed, he babbles)
But all I can see is my baby, almost five years old, as he looked when they handed him to me right after he was born.
And today, I will let go a little, just enough for him to find his feet.
And hope that he remembers that, while my hand may let go, my heart will cling to his as tightly as it can.
And while I worry about him, I know he'll be having many new experiences--some he has longed for, some he never dared dream.
And I'll wait to hear about his first day.
Because, as always with Bug, his firsts are my firsts.