I want to jot down an impression before I forget it. Another one of those times where my camera’s battery was dead, but I felt at peace about it because I memorized the moment in my mind so I could hurry home to write about it. (Do you ever feel this way? It used to frustrate me until I realized writing was just as good, if not better, than taking a picture.)

It was the last day of preschool for my 3-year-old son.

When I arrived mid-morning for the end-of-the-year party, nine little children in his class were all dressed in white T-shirts that had their handprints and names painted on them. My son’s handprint is in the middle, green. I wonder if he chose that color. On the back is an adult handprint, and it says, “Miss Sharon loves you.” Honestly, I love Miss Sharon, because if it weren’t for Miss Sharon, I wouldn’t have this blog.

There were about six other moms there, all of whom I’ve gotten to know a little throughout the year. Once again, I realized how I really don’t get out shopping for myself enough because I’m not dressed stylishly like they are. One mom had on gorgeous black spiked pumps with her pants suit. She looked like a million bucks. I would fall flat on my face if I wore shoes like that, but they looked great on her.

But I digress.

We chatted while the kids ate pizza, and then I was the first to say, “You think anyone would mind if we had a piece of pizza too?” Pretty soon, all of us were admitting “This is my breakfast” or “This is my lunch” and snagging a piece of cheese pizza.

One of the moms had collected tiny pictures of all of our kids and made Miss Sharon a little silver bracelet. Then she gave each of her students a T-shirt that had a class portrait on it — that was just taken a couple of days ago. Thank goodness she called me at home to remind me of the class picture because we would have skipped that day since we’ve been sick.

After pizza, juice, and presents, Miss Sharon said, “It’s time for bubbles!”

We followed her out onto the playground, and the moms talked while Miss Sharon tossed out thousands of bubbles with some kind of fancy bubble blower. The children were all laughing and running in the warm sunshine. I was talking to the other moms about who was going to what beach and when for summer vacation. And trying to encourage another mom who said she was moving over the summer.

Then we all went back to the classroom, and each child picked out a balloon to take home. My son picked out a green one. Here’s what I want to memorize: his happy face in his little handprint T-shirt, holding his green balloon. One day, I imagine he’ll tower over me and roll his eyes at me and say, “Mom!” But today, I was “Mama” and he hugged me and told me he loved his school and would miss it.

The strange thing is that, as I was experiencing all this, I was there, and yet I wasn’t there. The words were already going through my mind, and I was wondering how I would tell you all about it. Isn’t that weird? It’s like you were there with me.

Anyway, maybe if this blog survives the next few years, it will be fun to show it to my son someday. I’m proud of him. And of me, for showing up on time.