Never make a deal with a college student. It comes with too many conditions. Too many clauses. You give in to one thing and then they want another. It never ends well. You find yourself in some unknown territory, like cross-country, bare-handed turkey hunting. Or in this case, writing a column about my Opinion Writing class. What was I thinking?
Father camera units and the great preschool graduation debacle
I do declare … a kindergartner. That’s what my daughter is now. She graduated from Memorial Presbyterian Day School, a wonderful place where she learned amazing things, including how to turn washable paints into permanent ink stains. It was a terrific little ceremony the other night, filled with merriment, songs by children (some whose voices could carve names into glass) and diplomas for little tikes in blue caps and flowing gowns. Precious.