Time flies ...

TheBoy hit two milestones over the past week, both of which made me a little weepy (It's the hormones! The hormones!).

First, he graduated from preschool. OK, no, he didn't. He's still got another two years before we shuffle him off to kindergarten. But at his school, every kid gets a diploma and a minute on stage for their parents to beam and cry and take bad pictures. The "graduation ceremony" included a concert by some 5-year-old violinists (In case you don't have children: "Song" in this case means the same note, played over and over again), some presumably nice things said in Spanish by the teachers, and a mad scramble by the students for the balloons tied to the sides of the stage.

TheBoy managed to stay relatively still while he received his diploma. Then he toddled off stage, came over to where were sitting, and proceeded to rip the diploma into about three dozen pieces. That's $5,000, in the trash.

Again, I wept.

This weekend, we took the kid to his first real, big-screen movie, "Cars." I was worried he'd be freaked out by the size of the screen or the volume. Judybat was concerned that he would spend the entire movie asking questions in his not-in-public voice. He proved us both wrong. He sat there rapt most of the time, except when he was eating his bag of popcorn, box of raisins, cheese stick, bowl of nuts and bowl of crackers. The only questions he asked were very reasonable ones. The movie moves a little slowly for a Pixar flick, and every now and then at the end of a scene, TheBoy would turn to me and whisper, "Is that the end?"

Cue my tear ducts. It's not every 3-year-old, after all, that has that kind of grasp of narrative flow.