Another Obligatory Post

It's the first day of school and all the other, better bloggers than me will be offering lovely, heartfelt posts recapping the halcyon days of the past summer and looking forward in hopeful prose to the year ahead.  They will tell you how their boys children were worked up into an emotional lather of excitement, nervousness and, to a certain degree, regret.

The other bloggers will mention how cute they looked in their, say, blue crab shirt or their green shirt with a stylized fish on it, the colors making their eyes dance; they might mention how proud they were of their new shoes and too-small socks and how that made my their heart crack a little; or how the shorts we bought purchased at the beginning of the summer seem almost too small and how long and lanky they've become, legs brown from the summer sun.

Those more sentimental bloggers would probably mention how big and bulky and packed full of dreams and supplies and hopes and uncertainties their new backpacks seemed, adding details like how cute the little wolf on Zack's one is and the little fish on the other or how they agonized over the color and style they wanted, hoping for the perfect one to hold their perfect dreams.

The better parent bloggers might post something about how the road ahead seems so long for them, so seemingly unpredictable and sometimes scary; how they wish they could help them more but second grade the grade that child is in is a time to assert more independence.  They might tell you how very much they want to rush right now to the school and hug their shy son child and to tell the teacher that N their confident, sparkling boy, or, uh, girl, is sometimes reduced to tears when the weather looks scary and dark.

They'd ask themselves if perhaps they should have gone camping one more time, or made it to the amusement park with each one by themselves once more; should we they have worked harder on reading and math, definitely spelling, say, you know, if their kids are really bad spellers, over the summer; was there a million episodes of a Phineas and Ferb too much TV and way too many hours playing SkyLanders did they play to much on the Wii.  Or perhaps I'd he'd they would smile wistfully as they tell you:  'No, we nailed this summer, dudes.'

They'd admit their own sadness, their own regrets, their own melancholy at knowing the summer they were seven, or nine, or fifty-one for that matter, is over and will, never, ever return.  The summer they were Angels and started climbing trees.


No, I am not going to do any of that.  I will, however, give you these "little, tiny, scary, pink monsters" N made so at least you won't think I'm some sort of slacker blogger-dude:

I can't really tell what that one on the right is, a skull and crossbones, in pink I guess and the other is an alien of some sort, maybe...

Damned allergies, my eyes keep tearing up.