It’s the beginning of the end.
That’s right -- our Scotty is a senior in high school. He has gotten through kindergarten and 11 years of school and made it to the pinnacle of teenage education. He only has one year to go before he will be a high school graduate.
Somewhere teachers -- I imagine the ones that didn’t get him this year -- are sighing with relief.
When Scotty put on his Senior Crown last week and went to his last first day of school, I waited for the tears to start.
They never did.
Maybe that’s because I had already come to terms with the fact that with our baby in his senior year, it will be a year of lasts for us.
I have already been to my last open house and paid for a parking permit for the last time.
I took a child to have senior pictures made for the last time, wrote a check for lunch money in August for the last time and signed the 18,212 papers that come home on the first day of school for the last time.
So far I have noticed that the large majority of Scotty’s lasts seem to start with my checkbook.
Never one to get too emotional when it comes to my children -- although I will admit, I did shed tears when I dropped him off at kindergarten years ago -- I am both dreading and looking forward to his senior year of high school.
No more watching him run out on to the field at McConnell-Talbert as the announcer says, “Here come the Demons.”
No more dreading emails from science teachers. No more watching him hold a bat at Demon Diamond and praying for a hit. No more questioning why a month’s worth of lunch money only made it through two weeks. No more saying, “Time for bed, you have school tomorrow.” No more trips to the school office because he forgot his homework or math book. No more washing clothes at 11 p.m. because he has to wear that shirt tomorrow. No more buying notebook paper or poster board.
When Ronnie was a senior, I don’t remember thinking about every last thing -- I guess because I knew while it was his last, it wasn’t my last.
But when the baby does something -- if you can refer to someone who is 6-2 and 260 as a baby -- it hits home a little more.
So as we start on the journey that is the end of having a child in high school, I am sure the next year will bring both tears and smiles.
On both my face and from plenty of teachers.