My grandson graduated from nursery school yesterday.
When I got to the backyard where the “event” (sounds a bit formal for 4 year olds – doesn’t it?) was being held, I took a seat in the front row – next to his mom. As soon as the kids came marching into place on the stage (with their teacher leading them in song), I searched for my grandson among the group, and zeroed right in to watch him in his debut.
I turned to my daughter-in-law and whispered, “Why is his hat crooked?”
She said, “Ma, he’s FOUR.”
True. He’s four. I’m fifty two. And I’m worrying about his slanted sailor cap on his head. Continue reading