We are at Preschool Graduation Day (PGD) minus one day and counting. Midday Wednesday,  the beloved and I will be all teary-eyed, watching our girlie standing in a line with a dozen or so of her little mates, singing songs of joy and peace, accompanied by those hand gestures that are such a fantastic nemonic device for the young, and just insufferably adorable to the old.

Our daughter, by contrast, will be dry-eyed and thinking about the next verse, or about how her undies keep riding up her booty, or about how isn’t that a Steller’s Jay chattering up there in the tree? Maybe she’ll just be thinking how sentimental her parents seem to be, and wondering whether we’ll be carrying on like this for every other graduation, too. The answer to which question would probably be: yep.

After I picked her up from preschool yesterday (one more day to go! have I mentioned?), I suggested we take a quick jaunt to her new elementary school, which she okayed immediately and even with a touch of frisson, if you can frisson at 4.9 yrs old. The pretext for the visit was for me to test out the drive time, to & fro our home. Sure,  late at night — and more than once — I’d already done that. But did she need to know?

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