Jake may simply be trying to smile into the sun, but his face sure does look like I feel right about now.
And no, it's not snowing in VA. Old picture.
Jake is eight-years-old. He's in second grade. He's smart, funny, and a really good boy. And he's doing great.
His mommy is thirty-years-old. She's got a college degree. And, although she'd like to think she's also smart, funny, and a really good girl, she's not doing so great. She's overwhelmed.
I'm overwhelmed. By second grade.
There's homework every day. There's a project every month. There's Focus (we used to call it GT, but I think that's politically incorrect now) with a big research project. There's cub scout badge requirements. There's a block of wood sitting on my counter that needs to become a Pinewood Derby car. There's baseball practice. There's bedtime.
Did I mention the child is eight and at some point needs to run and play, preferably outside?
And all I can think, as I make my lists of due dates, is "If this is elementary school, what is high school going to do to me?"