Eighth grade (and all that comes with it.)

I have spent the last two years trying not to cry when anyone mentions Sheldon's graduation from grade eight.

I know, I know.  It's just grade eight.  There will be bigger rites of passage to conquer but I'm having such trouble with this one.....

Last week his class had their graduation photos taken.  A friend offered up a selection of ties for Sheldon to choose from.  We dug his white shirt out from the back of the closet.  My neighbour (who stands in for Peter when he's away) came over and tied the tie for Sheldon.  And then on photo morning, while Peter was away and I was at work, Sarah made sure that his hair was clean and brushed and his breakfast was out of his teeth.  (It really does take a village to raise a child......)

When I arrived home from work, I found Sheldon in the kitchen and asked about his day.  I had forgotten that after the photos, the guidance counsellor from the high school came to talk to them about picking courses for next year.  He was so excited at all his options and he rattled on about what he thought he was interested in, what he wasn't, and how many compulsories he would need.  While he talked, I sat at the kitchen table and tried to stifle a sniff.  All of a sudden he turned around, took one look at me and said "Oh, I knew it.  You're crying."

Busted.  Again.