There won’t be any more light-blue “St. Peter’s School” golf shirts on my clothesline; no more blue chinos in the wash. After nine straight years of wearing blue chinos to school every day, he’ll be trading them in for gray at high school next year. I’ve washed my last blue uniform for my son.
The last time he graduated was from kindergarten. Middle Sister was just over 2, and she “crashed” the ceremony–lining up in the middle of the kindergarten children for her chance at a mimeographed diploma, and holding up the works when the principal wouldn’t give her a piece of paper. Big Brother’s friends let her in line, because she had kind of been adopted as “younger sister to the whole class.”
Kindergarten diplomas are nice; from here on in, it starts to count for real.