For 7 years, 10 months of the year, 5 days a week, I got up and drove my son to Natomas Pacific Pathways Prep. We pulled up in front of the school, in the drop off line, and I would say, “Have a good day. Have fun. Try to learn something.” Unless it was a testing day and then I would say, “Try to remember something.” Then he would lean over and kiss my cheek and get out of the car. Yes, my teenage son kissed me goodbye on the cheek, every morning, in front of everyone.
Damn. I can’t believe it’s over. Graduation isn’t until next week and they have some senior activities between now and then, but this is it for school. Next August I’m not going to know what to do with myself.
This is true. My 19yr old daughter, freshly home from her first year at college, came and got in bed with me last night because she had a bad dream. About monsters that sang their own showtunes (à la Michigan J. Frog).
I disagree. It’s their stuff that never leaves. My son hasn’t spent a dozen nights in my house in the last 10 years but I still have his Foosball table from college cluttering up my garage.