Our Pandemic Babies Are Starting Kindergarten: Two Moms on Letting Go

Two BUBS moms on sending their pandemic babies to kindergarten...

The letting go, and the hard first weeks

From the BUBS community...

These two stories were shared with us by moms in the BUBS community and published here with their permission. Their kids were born into the same strange year and are starting kindergarten now, one mom reflecting on the ache of letting go, the other on the tender, worrying first weeks when the friends haven't come yet. If you're somewhere in between, maybe their words will feel like yours too. Have a story you'd like to share? We'd love to hear it.

I bought a backpack this week.

A real one. Not the tiny toddler kind that holds a snack and a stuffed animal, but a big-kid backpack with a name tag pocket and straps I had to adjust down as far as they'd go. It's hanging by the door right now, waiting for the first day of kindergarten. And every time I walk past it, my chest does this funny thing... part pride, part something I don't quite have a word for.

Because that backpack belongs to my firstborn. The baby I brought home during a lockdown. The one who is somehow, impossibly, five.

The Days Nobody Got to See

If you had a baby during those early pandemic years, you know exactly what I mean when I say it was a strange, small, quiet world.

There was no crowded hospital room full of visitors. No grandparents fighting over who got to hold him first. No mommy-and-me classes, no library story time, no casual playground introductions with other parents. For the longest stretch, his entire world was our living room and the two faces that loved him most.

I remember worrying about all of it. Was he seeing enough faces? Hearing enough voices that weren't ours? Would he know how to be around other kids when the world finally opened back up? I'd scroll at 2 a.m. during night feeds, reading everything I could about "pandemic babies," convincing myself I'd already done something wrong before he could even walk.

If this was you, you weren't alone:

Roughly 3.6 million babies were born in the U.S. in 2020 — a whole generation whose first year looked nothing like the one their parents had imagined. This fall, those same babies are walking into kindergarten classrooms all over the country.

A Closed World That Was Somehow Full

Here's the thing I didn't expect, though. Looking back now, those closed-off months weren't only hard. In a lot of ways, they were a gift I didn't know to ask for.

We were there for everything. The first roll, the first laugh, the first wobbly steps across the rug. There was nowhere to rush off to, so we didn't. We learned to entertain ourselves with cardboard boxes and Tupperware drawers and long walks around the same block we'd already walked a hundred times. He got so good at playing on his own, narrating little stories to his toys, that I sometimes wondered if he even needed me in the room.

Slowly, the world reopened. And so did he. The first playdate. The first time another toddler stole his snack and he looked at me like the whole social order had collapsed. The first "friend" whose name he actually remembered. Every one of those milestones felt enormous, because I'd spent so long quietly afraid they might not come easily.

They came. Of course they came.

Turns Out, So Did Everyone Else's Kids

One of the quiet comforts of this season has been realizing how many of us are standing in exactly the same doorway.

My group chats are full of it right now. The same backpack photos, the same nervous captions, the same friends whose "lockdown babies" are also starting kindergarten this month. We went through those isolated early days apart, in our separate living rooms, and now our kids are landing in the same classrooms, ready to become each other's people. There's something almost poetic about that. The cohort that started so alone is growing up together after all.

And if you're the one lying awake wondering whether your kid is "behind," please hear this from someone who did plenty of that same worrying: the researchers who actually study these children are the first to say it's far too early to draw big conclusions about this generation. Yes, some pandemic babies showed small early differences on things like social and motor screenings. But kids are remarkably resilient, and again and again, the ones who seemed shy or delayed have blossomed once they were around other children. As one researcher put it, anyone claiming to fully understand this generation at age five is getting ahead of the story.

A little reassurance for the 2 a.m. worriers: Development isn't a race, and it isn't a straight line. Your kid started in an unusual world, but "different start" doesn't mean "worse outcome." So many of these children are thriving; sometimes because of the closeness those early years forced on us, not in spite of it.

The Part I Wasn't Ready For

For years, I wanted the world to open back up for him. I wanted him to have friends and teachers and a life bigger than our four walls. I prayed for it, honestly.

What nobody warned me about is how it feels when that prayer gets answered. When the kid you kept so close for so long picks up his own backpack and walks toward a room you're not allowed to follow him into.

There's a specific ache to being the parent of a firstborn during all of this. He made me a mother in the strangest possible year. We figured each other out with almost no one else around. And now, letting go of him — even just to a half day of finger paint and circle time — feels like handing over a piece of that private little world we built when the rest of the world was shut.

I know this is the whole point. You raise them to leave the room. But knowing that doesn't make the doorway any easier to stand in.

The days were so long and the years were so short — and never more true than for the ones of us who spent those long days at home, just us and them.

Everything They Outgrow

There's a practical side to this milestone, too, and it snuck up on me while I was busy being emotional about the backpack.

Kindergarten comes with a whole new list. Bigger clothes for a kid who suddenly has opinions about them. A lunchbox and a water bottle. Sneakers that fit feet that won't stop growing. A rain jacket, indoor shoes, a nap mat, the works. Meanwhile, the closet is full of the last size he wore — barely used, outgrown in a blink, too good to throw away and too full of memories to toss in a bin.

This is exactly the season I've come to lean on BUBS for. It's become my safe place to buy and sell the good stuff our kids outgrow, alongside other families who just get it. Passing along the clothes he's grown out of to another parent, and finding his big-kid gear from someone whose own child has already moved on, feels like the opposite of that lonely early-pandemic isolation. It's the village we couldn't have back then, finally showing up.

If You're Standing in the Same Doorway

A few small things I'm holding onto as I send my pandemic baby off to kindergarten — maybe they'll help you, too:

Take the photo, but also take the mental snapshot. The backpack that's bigger than they are won't be for long.
Let yourself feel both things at once. Pride and grief can share the same morning.
Trust the resilience you've already watched them show. They learned to make friends in a world that made it hard. They've got this.
Pass the little clothes on to a family who needs them. Someone out there is right where you were a few years ago.
Find your people. The other parents in that pickup line went through the same strange beginning you did.

The Bottom Line

My son learned to say hello in a world of masks and closed doors. And now he's about to walk into a room full of five-year-olds who started exactly the same way he did, ready to become friends he'll maybe keep for years.

I'll cry in the car. I already know I will. But I'll also be so proud I can hardly stand it — because the quiet, careful, love-filled little world we built when everything else was shut down turned out to be exactly enough. It grew a kid who's ready.

Now I just have to be ready too.

Did you have a baby during the pandemic? Is yours starting kindergarten this year? I'd love to hear your story — drop it in the comments. Let's stand in this doorway together.

— Shared by a mom in the BUBS community

A second story from our community —

When we shared the story above, another BUBS mom wrote in. Her son is the same age — another baby of that quiet year — but her first weeks of kindergarten have looked different. This is for the parents whose kid is the one still standing at the edge of the playground.

"Nobody Played With Me Today"

The backpack photos broke my heart a little this year, if I'm being honest. Not because they aren't beautiful — they are. But because behind our own first-day photo is a story that's been harder than I expected to say out loud.

My son started kindergarten a few weeks ago. Every morning he gets dressed, lets me pack his lunch, holds my hand to the door. He goes. He does everything right. And almost every afternoon, he climbs into the car and says some version of the same thing: "Nobody played with me today."

We're both just going through the motions. New school, new faces, new routine — and for him, no friend yet. No one saving him a seat. No little name he brings home over and over. Just a long day of watching other kids who already seem to know each other, in a building that still feels like a stranger's house.

And here's the part that makes it complicated: this isn't a school he got dropped into by chance. He was in a wonderful little pre-K — one of those programs that carries all the way through to fifth grade, so he could have simply stayed, kept his teachers, kept his friends, grown up in a place we already loved. I hadn't planned to move him at all.

Then the call came. A spot opened at a school I'd been on the waiting list for — the one I'd hoped for, and, not for nothing, ten or twelve minutes closer to home. After all that waiting, I said yes. Which means the quiet afternoons and the empty seat at lunch aren't some accident of fate. They're the flip side of a choice I made.

The Part I Didn't See Coming

Here's what I keep circling back to at night: my kid learned to be social in a world that barely let him practice. He was a pandemic baby too — fewer playgrounds, fewer birthday parties, fewer chances to just be a kid in a pile of other kids. He'd finally found his footing at that first school, and I picked him up and set him down somewhere brand new. So when he struggles to break into a group at recess, a small, guilty voice whispers, did I do this to him?

And right behind that voice comes the second-guessing about the whole decision. He had a good thing. He had friends. Should I have just left well enough alone? Was a shorter drive and a school on my wish list really worth watching him eat lunch by himself? When your child is hurting, the choice you were once so sure about suddenly feels like it's on trial.

If you're in this too, I want to tell you the thing it took me a few hard weeks to believe: a slow start is not a failed start. Most kids need time — sometimes weeks — to find their footing in a new place. It doesn't mean something is wrong with your child, or with you.

What's Actually Helped Us

I'm not an expert — I'm just a mom figuring it out in real time. But I started reading, and talking to a couple of teachers, and trying small things. These are the ones that have actually made a difference for us:

I stopped rushing to fix it. My first instinct was to fill the silence with pep talks. What he actually needed first was to hear "that sounds really lonely, and I get why you're sad." Naming the feeling before jumping to solutions helped him feel less alone in it.

We practiced the words at home. Kids don't always know how to break in. So we play-act it on the couch — simple openers like "I like your shoes, can I play?" or "Can I sit here?" Child development experts call these little rehearsals and social scripts, and it turns out testing them out in a safe spot really does make them easier to use for real.

I set up one low-key playdate. Not a party — just one classmate, at our house, where my son feels most confident. One-on-one, on home turf, is so much easier than a loud, crowded classroom. It's where a lot of real friendships actually start.

I let go of the crowd. I'd built up this picture of him surrounded by a big group of buddies. But the experts are clear on this one: kids really only need one or two good friends. That reframe took so much pressure off both of us.

I tried to model it, not just coach it. I started making a point of chatting with other parents at pickup, saying hi to the neighbor, being warm out loud. He's watching how I do this more than he's listening to my advice.

If your kindergartner hasn't found their people yet:

Name the feeling before you fix it · rehearse simple openers at home · set up one-on-one playdates on familiar turf · aim for one or two friends, not a crowd · model warmth in your own interactions · and give it real time. If your child cries about it daily, withdraws, or seems consistently anxious rather than just slow to settle, it's worth a gentle check-in with their teacher or pediatrician — not because something is wrong, but because you don't have to figure it out alone.

So What's the Best Decision?

I've thought a lot about whether I made the "best decision," and I've landed somewhere that surprised me: I think I did — and it still cost him something in the short term. Both of those things are true at once. The new school is the one I'd hoped for, and those ten or twelve minutes back in our day are ten or twelve minutes I now spend with him instead of in the car. Those aren't nothing. A good decision doesn't always feel good on a Tuesday afternoon when your kid is sad.

So the real decision, the one I keep making, isn't "did I choose the right building." It's choosing to stand by the choice while actively helping him land — and staying honest enough to know the difference between a slow, normal adjustment and a child who truly isn't okay. If the harder weeks stretched into harder months, I'd revisit everything. For now, I'm giving it real time and showing up hard in the meantime.

Maybe your version of this looks different — staying put, going back, a smaller classroom, another year. There's no single right answer here, and anyone who tells you there is hasn't met your child. If you made a big change and you're watching your kid wobble through it, that doesn't automatically mean you chose wrong. Sometimes the right decision and a hard transition come in the very same box.

I'll end with this. Last Tuesday he got in the car, and before I could even ask, he said: "A boy let me play blocks with him. His name is the same as my cousin's." That was it. One boy, one set of blocks. But he smiled the whole way home — and so did I.

If you're still waiting for your kid's block-buddy moment, hang on. Keep showing up. It's coming.

Is your little one having a slow start to the school year? What's helped in your house? Share it in the comments — another parent reading this needs to hear it.

— Shared by another mom in the BUBS community

Kindergarten-Ready, Without the Sticker Shock

New season, new sizes, new gear. Before you buy it all brand new, see what other local parents are passing along — and give your little one's outgrown clothes a second life with a family who needs them.

Buy, sell, and trade quality kids' items with parents who get it. Save money, reduce waste, and build your village — one hand-me-down at a time.

Join the BUBS Community →

Sources & References

Newsweek (2025). "From COVID to classrooms: Millions of pandemic babies start kindergarten" — ~3.6 million children born in the U.S. in 2020 now entering kindergarten — newsweek.com
Columbia University Center for Early Relational Health / Dr. Dani Dumitriu — research on early developmental screenings in pandemic-born infants and the caution against drawing conclusions about this generation too early (as reported by Newsweek, 2025).
Tools of the Mind (2025). "COVID babies are off to kindergarten" — on resilience and readiness in the pandemic cohort — toolsofthemind.org
Cleveland Clinic. "Social Skills 101: How To Help Your Child Make Friends" — role-playing openers, easing into new spaces, and introversion vs. shyness — clevelandclinic.org
Child Mind Institute. "Kids Who Need a Little Help to Make Friends" — social scripts, one-on-one playdates, and the reminder that kids need just one or two good friends (Rachel Busman, PsyD; Mary Rooney, PhD; Jamie Howard, PhD) — childmind.org

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