In June 2006, my boy walked across his classroom in a paper hat and yarn tassel to officially become a junior kindergarten graduate. I cried, of course. He loved Star Wars, LEGO, The Packers, Superman and cereal. He hoped to become a superhero when he grew up.
Tonight, in June 2016, my boy walked across a room in a navy fedora and red bow tie to officially become an elementary school graduate. I cried, of course. He loves The Packers, football, basketball, video games, football, Doctor Who, 70s rock music, tumblr, Stephen King books, gummy bears, football. He hopes to go to Madison and to become a quantum physicist when he grows up.
So much has changed, and I’m not just talking about his voice. He’s older, he’s taller (than me!), he’s funnier, he’s *almost* able to make Wacky Mac without burning my house down, he’s slightly less picky, and slightly more hipster, and the boy sure can throw a football across a field. But my hopes for him remain the same.
Even if it’s just doin’ his Fs.