I Bequeath To You One Little Boy...

Dear World: I bequeath to you today one little boy in a clean green shirt . . . with two brown  eyes. . .
And a happy laugh that ripples all day long, and a batch of curly brown hair that bounces in the sunlight when he runs.
I trust you'll treat him well.
He's slipping out of the backyard of my heart this morning and skipping off down the street to his first day of school.
And never again will he be completely mine. . .
Prim and proud, he'll wave a young and independent hand this morning, and say goodbye and walk with big-boy steps to the nearby schoolhouse. . .
Gone will be the chattering little boy who lived only for play, and gone will be the delightful little man who roamed the yard like a proud prince with nary a care in his little world.
Now, he will learn to stand in lines. . . and wait by the alphabet for his name to be called. . .
He will learn to tune his little-boy ears for the sound of school bells, and for deadlines. . .
He will learn to giggle and gossip. . .
And to look at the ceiling in a disinterested way when the little girl across the aisle sticks out her tongue.
Now he will learn to be jealous. . . and now he will learn how it is to feel hurt inside. . . and now he will learn how not to cry. . .
No longer will he have time to sit on the front porch steps on a summer day and watch while an ant scurries across a crack in the sidewalk. . .
Or will he have time to pop out of bed with the dawn to catch tree frogs in the morning dew. . .
Now he will worry about important things. . . like grades. . . and what to wear. . . and whose best friend is whose. . .
Now he will worry about the little girl who ignores him at recess time. . . and staying after school. . . and which little girls like which little boys. . .
And the magic of books and knowledge will soon take the place of the magic of his trucks and tractors.
And he will find new heroes. . .
For five full years I've been his sage and Santa Claus. . . his pal and playmate . . . his mother and his friend. . .
Now, alas, he'll learn to share his worship and adoration with his teachers (which is only right). . .
And no longer will I be the smartest, greatest woman in the world. . .
Today, when the first school bell rings, he'll learn how it is to be a member of the group. . . with all its privileges, and, of course, its disadvantages, too.
He will learn in time that polite young men do not laugh out loud. . . or kiss dogs. . . or keep frogs in pickle jars in bedrooms. . . or watch ants scurry across the cracks in a summer sidewalk. . .
Today, he will begin to learn for the first time that all who smile at him are not his friends. . . That "the group" can be a demanding mistress. . .
And I'll stand on the porch and watch him start out on the long, long journey to becoming a man. . .
So World, I bequeath to you today one little boy in a clean green shirt and two brwon eyes. . .
And a happy laugh that ripples all day long, and a batch of curly brown hair that bounces in the sunlight when he runs.
I trust you'll treat him well.

(I did not write this poem...I found it on the internet but I don't know who to give credit to for writing it.)