Last week I sent my nine-year-old off to fourth grade. Holy shit, folks! My kid is a dinosaur in blogging years.
Beyond the fact that I have succeeded in not smothering her to death or leaving her somewhere or putting her up for auction on KidBay (shhh, only we know it’s not real), I can’t believe how fast she has grown.
Which is, of course, a cliche, but I don’t really care.
I’ve been snapping pictures of her First School Day for–let’s count ‘em–six years. It was her first day of pre-school where I cried big, ugly Oprah tears and spent an embarrassing amount of time picking out her outfit of pink-striped tights, a collared puff sleeve shirt and a matching tweedish skirt.
You’ll have to believe me that it was precious. I am far too lazy to hunt around for the digital image I know is somewhere close.
I should add that my second favorite First Day photo moment was Kindergarten. She hated her uniform and I loved her tears. Loved them so much I took this classic picture of her despair over unshapely uniforms.
Who doesn’t love a kick to the spirit every now and again? This is a marketing moment if I’ve ever seen one.
Fast forward a few years and last week I took the photo I normally take: a quick snap right before we walked out the door.
Then I was upstaged by EVERY OTHER PARENT on Facebook. With all of their creative banners and even–can you believe it–a chalkboard picture frame announcing the day, the time, the milisecond of this First Day.
What the fuck, Interwebz?
There is no way I can get around being “creative” about picture taking. Sure, I can look like I baked all those pies and cookies and whatever sweets we’re not allowed to bring into the classroom because of the Hell Hath No Sugar Army, but the Pinterfication (I made it up) of First Day photos can suck it.
I may or may not have a memory, but I know that I can PRETEND to remember when I took a picture and what year it was. I don’t need billboards announcing the longitude and latitude of first, second, whatever grade jitters.
And, while I’m at it, who has an operational printer these days?
It’s a double burn.
Isn’t it enough that I woke up on time and sharpened all 8,500 #2 Ticonderoga pencils?
Gold leaf frames and curly scripts?
I really want my kid to live up to that t-shirt and eat mine.
(Those two lovely boys up there are courtesy of Stephanie at A Bell Reve. I love her and she is a good sport. I’m just jelly, girl.)