Saturday, August 22, 2009

A night that's always brighter than the day

Saturday, August 22, 2009
While demonstrating a downward dog to the chick in the gym creche, Data frustatedly informed said chick that: "I've been trying to get this right for twenty years!". Ten days to big school. My little baby is going to school. This bundle of tantrums, this bindle of tetch, whom in pre-Purple days I ferried daily across town, by bike, bus, bagel and Luas. this little bint, is growing way up.

Common Law will cry, I predict, and I will stand there awkward and stone-faced as Data sprints away from us to her classroom, her too big bag weighing her down not a jot. I will save my tears for later as this weeping will be not for Data but for myself and my onward rush toward death and oblivion.

Thank fuck for chocolate.

8 Johns and Janes for the comment whore:

Fat Sparrow said...

They grow up so fast, don't they? It just flashes right by.

The Nestling Sparrow will be turning 6 at the end of November, and he'll be starting school after we get moved this month.

And we drop the Fledgling Sparrow off at her dorm on 2 Sept. I suspect I will cry. Although, since she has gone in to full teenager mode lately, maybe not as hard as I would otherwise. I told her last night, "You're making it really easy for me to not miss you when you go away to college!"

stipes said...

Ha, there's lots more than chocolate at the Big school. Be afraid, be very afraid etc.

fatmammycat said...

Sigh. It's only a hop skip and a jump away from them demanding mortgage papers on their bodies so that they can go investigate the horrible world of ankle anc/ks.

Sarah Gostrangely said...

ahh. that was lovely.

yes thanks jaysus for chocolate.

gimme a minute said...

That'll show her. If she even heard it. I can't remember hearing anything my mother said once I turned twelve.

That is very creepy.

I heard today that a twenty-one year old cousin of Common Law's had gotten a big pair of headphones tattooed onto his neck. And my blood turned a little cold.

You know, some people wouldn't shed a tear if chocolate suddenly disappeared from the planet.

I know, right?

Fat Sparrow said...

Nothing says "class" like a neck tattoo.

Unless it's a face tattoo.

fatmammycat said...

Oh jesus, on the neck? That was my kind I'd take a sander to it. No shitting around either.

Conan Drumm said...

Ah, how well I remember the 'piercing' incident.

"A doctor would have required my written permission for what is, in effect, a surgical procedure!"

"Well, she told us she was old enough, Bud."

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