to this?
"Mom, we get to wear tutus for graduation!"
I guess a tutu is a better choice than jail-house stripes:
Walking into graduation, he laughingly told me, "I look like I'm going to jail!"
By the end of the ceremony, he was showing how much of a little boy he still is--kindergarten was exhausting, and so is posing for pictures.
He wants to be an artist when he grows up...so he says. "RJ, what does an artist do?" we asked at dinner. "Well," he paused for importance, "It's those guys who use microscopes and stuff." Ahhhhh, yes, I suspect he wasn't confused. He was simply describing the crossed paths of medical arts and medical science. I'm sure of it.
Gigi held down the pew for one more of her bubba's events before she starts dialing up her own special events in preschool next year.
No photographs please!
She and her brother have been having some pretty deep theological discussions lately. RJ tells us, "Jesus lives inside of you." Gigi responds, "I don't see him in my tummy. I don't even see him on the road." It's a truth we all struggle with, Gigi. She does, however, have a firm understanding of baptism: "Pastor Henke washed my hair in church too!"
I survived my boy's first graduation. I blinked, and he was in a cap and gown (he'll be in one next year too--kindergarten is tough, particularly with a late birthday). But somehow, this was the one that mattered (remind me of that next year when I post nearly the exact same thing).
And, for those of you who are curious about just what exactly a kindergarten graduation looks like, here are the highlights:
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