Greetings, my fellow port swillers!

Ol’ Robbo finds himself a bit staggered at how quickly the academic year (which is the basic yardstick ’round these parts) has come to a close this time around.

Teh Eldest, as of the end of the week, is a rising high school senior.  She’s celebrating the end of 11th grade by driving down to King’s Dominion for the day with a friend this Friday.  Although I cringe at the prospect, I also recognize that this is part of the whole flying-the-nest thing.

Teh Middle, already, is a rising high school sophomore and is set to get her learner’s permit in a couple months.

Teh Youngest is headed for eighth grade.  I still remember changing her diapers.  Now she’s a long, tall filly.  What happened here?

Yes, of course, it’s basic math.  I’m 50, so each passing year is now 1/50th of my experience.  When I was 40, each was 1/40th.  When 30, each was 1/30th. And so on.

Still, in operation, it’s a bit overwhelming.

UPDATE:  Eldest came to me this (Thursday) evening in tears.  It seems that her friend had some kind of dust-up with said friend’s parent, the result being that friend’s trip to K-D was kyboshed.  I expressed heartfelt condolences to teh gel for her disappointment that the big trip had been broken up but, at the same time, danced a little jig of delight:  I’d never been wholly happy about the thing and now I get to slide out of it looking like one of the good guys.  Win, win.

 

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