Today I watched my son cross the stage in his 8th grade promotion ceremony. Dressed sharp in a charcoal vest and tie, he took to the field of his new high school seven inches taller and immeasurably wiser than the once-timid kid nearly swallowed whole by 7th grade.
Junior high wasn’t easy on any of us. There were tears, missing assignments, and awkward school dances. But there were also moments of real growth, glory, and newfound freedom. My son may have graduated today, but in a way, so did we. As my husband and I sat in the stands to cheer on our boy, the following thoughts pomped and circumstanced in our heads: