Today I descend, once again, into the netherworld of 8th-grade graduation festivities. Baseball season finally ended last night, just in time for a giant pizza party at my tiny house tonight and then tomorrow's prom at the old grange. Possibly your town doesn't turn 8th-grade graduation into as big a deal as high school graduation, but Harmony does. Thus, as one of the class advisors, my primary roles this weekend are shop, decorate, chaperone, shop, chaperone, decorate, decorate, shop, boss people around, shop, chaperone, iron, iron, iron, stand around in corners, and mop up spilled soda.
My older son, who really is graduating from high school next week, stands back, laughs sardonically, and says, "Whatever you do, don't buy Kool-Aid. That is stooping too low."