To their tremendous credit, it was not dubbed a graduation ceremony. In fact, the certificate each child received mentioned nothing of the finality of the kindergarten era. It was rather an award, individually created for each child specifically designed with their unique personality in mind.
Zia’s?
I know what you’re thinking, but no.
“So Zia, what’s this I hear about you kissing a boy at school today?”
“I didn’t kiss him!!”
“So what’s the story?”
“Well, I was helping Sam with his work and he said, ‘I should give you a kiss’
and I was like, ‘EWW, NO WAY!!’
and then he was like, ‘HOSEA!!’”
“Then what happened?”
“Then we started laughing and the whole class was staring at us and we got embarrassed.”
“Well, it’s a good thing you didn’t kiss him because you’re too young to get married.”
“I wasn’t going to marry him!”
“Well if you kiss him then you have to get married.”
“Dad!! That’s not right. You kiss Mommy.”
“Yeah, and look at us — we’re married!”
“Oh. (pausing)
That was a close one.”
I stepped on a moonbeam at the top of the stairs last night. The damn thing nearly tripped me. Funny thing, moonbeams.
That actually has nothing to do with anything but for some reason I felt it needed sharing. My world seems to be spinning at an alarmingly fast pace as of late. Not out of control, mind you, just faster. I’m struggling to keep pace fearful that I’m going to miss something important or at the very least fail to recognize that something significant is happening.
Zoë: Dad, what’s for dinner?
Me: You’re sitting right next to it. I told you that you’d see it again.
I made a nod towards the bag from Panera. The bag from Panera containing the uneaten portions of sandwiches and soup that were left over from lunch. The kids had begged for something to eat and were beside themselves with excitement when we stopped to pick up the soup and sandwiches.
They ate practically nothing.
Zia, whom I thought was sleeping, chimed up from the back seat: Well, in my world again means tomorrow!
(We had spaghetti.)
