She calls him Bill.
He calls her Lizzy.
We named him William, and nicknamed him Will.
We named her Elizabeth.
I guess they know better?
Will started summer with a trip to Washington D.C. It was an unofficial school trip which departed from the middle school parking lot on the last day of school.
Lizzy made it a point to come over from the high school to see him off. She had to make sure he had everything. She wanted to say goodbye and give him a final head's up about what she had seen on her eighth grade trip and tell him what to do and not do while in D.C.
She is the big sister after all and she's been convinced since Will was born, that it's her job to make sure he's taken care of.
She does a good job of it.
He'd be lost without her.
I almost shudder to think what it will be like around here for Will when Lizzy leaves for college.
Let's not think about that yet. We have a whole year to cross that bridge and my plan is to walk across it very slowly.
This is a picture from Will's eighth grade graduation.
Where I grew up, leaving the eighth grade was a bit of a big deal. We had a banquet. The girls bought new dresses, the boys wore dress shirts and nice pants, the teachers gave out the math award, the science award, etc., and you took pictures with your friends so that when you hit your forties you can look back and laugh.
We don't do that here.
We hold an assembly on the last day of school. We send out an email to parents, letting them know that the assembly will start at a certain time, and if the parents can make it, they are welcome to attend. We sit on gym bleachers beside other moms. We watch our favorite eighth grader descend from their perch on the bleachers at the other end of the gym as their classmates hoot and holler at them. As they make their way down to the gym floor, grab their certificate from one of the eighth grade teachers, we wonder as they make their way down the line of teachers, if our child is a hugger or a shaker.
When they make it to the end of the line, they stand in an orderly, alphabetical fashion, and hoot and holler for the rest of the class who go through the same routine.
Highschool here they come.
My little man will be a freshman this year.
His summer began with an ending. His summer will end with a beginning.
Lizzy will be there when he begins, just like always.