The first day of school arrives and I, like all the other parents and grandparents around take pictures of my kids. I do this because it was done to me and I hated it so it seems only fair that now I torture my own girls with it.
And then I, like all the other parents and grandparents around, share my pictures with the world. I do this because that’s what bloggers (I swear I will get a new computer and be a regular blogger again one day soon) do.
But I just can’t get on board the “bittersweet memory” and “growing up so fast” and “where has the time gone” caption bandwagon with the cute signs and the three smiling faces.
A: The house is quiet today and that is a beautiful thing.
B: I hate to be the one to point this out but we are all aging at the same rate, and
C: The time has disappeared into years of sleeplessness and over caffeination and I can’t remember most of it anyway even if I wanted to.
So I post pictures of my kids getting attacked by mosquitoes and I don’t cry and feel bittersweet.
Nope, I’m just happy to be able to drink an entire cup of tea while it’s still hot, knowing that I’ll have some photo evidence that I did indeed send the girls off to school on a mosquito ridden day in 2018 because heaven knows I’ll never remember it otherwise!