My baby's not a baby

Lennon started preschool this week.  Zero tears were shed by both mother and son.  I was happy for him to hang out with other kids and excited to have time alone with Larry.  Plus, Lennon likes making friends. Seriously, this kid is social.  His teacher told me he stood at the door and introduced himself to everyone with a hug and asked, "What's your name?  Wanna be my friend?"  So innocent and uninhibited.  It's too bad adults can't be the same way.

So I took these pictures before he left for school.  I sort of felt pressure to do a front door shot or a picture of him holding a sign saying how old he was and what year of school he was starting.  Instead I took these.  Now I wish I'd taken them next to the rat trap that almost broke Lennon's fingers last week.  The one I warned him about repeatedly that he decided to touch while doing yard work with Tod.  The one he touched but pulled away from with only a slap, not a trap.  Once again, my baby's not a baby.  Who can say their three year old has escaped both death by rat poison and broken fingers by rat trap?

Hey, come to think of it...both of those happened in Tod's care.  Weird.