Oh, Yarn Harlot, I love you. (in a completely non-creepy, un-stalkerish, fangirl kind of way. No need for a restraining order.) You posted (http://www.yarnharlot.ca/) about your bike ride with your daughter, and I swear, I was so very relieved to know that I am not the only mom who is That Mom. I love that you were still announcing upcoming patches of gravel and protectively admonishing her to be careful.
Thing 1, my little baby boy, a.k.a. "STINKY ROTTEN," as in, "Come on, Stinky Rotten, we have to leave in 12 seconds!" yeah, that one: Thing 1 graduated from high school. Graduated.
Just like that, he aged me into "Mother of Semi-Grown Person" instead of "Mother of High-Schooler." Jerk.
At graduation, as they were reading all 680 or so names (that's actually literally true), I was crying by the time they hit the Bs. We are not Bs. We are Gs. And I cried all the way through the Ys, because I knew so many of these stinkin' kids, who have all grown up through 12 years of school together.
I made a special point of spit smoothing his hair for a picture after the ceremony. Just because.
Stay tuned. We take him to college in August. He refuses to consider staying home and attending community college, so .. ok. Big University Out Of Town, here he comes.
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