Chloe graduates from elementary school (5th grade to be exact) on Wednesday.  It’s hard for me to believe that this milestone is upon us.  It’s also hard to believe that schools feel the need to mount an entire ceremony for 11-year olds.  The school even subjected the kids to a rehearsal, no less.  As I’ve stated many times before, children today are way too coddled.

But despite my philosophical objection to celebrating my children’s every single milestone, I will be at that ceremony on Wednesday, as contrived as it may be, proudly watching my oldest get her fake diploma (or whatever it is they hand out).  I might even shed a tear or two.

But probably not.  Because it’s supposed to be stifling hot on Wednesday – close to 100 degrees.  And the school is not air-conditioned.  So instead of crying simply because my daughter is getting so old so quickly, salty tears and salty sweat will likely be emanating from me in equal measure because her graduation is to take place in a version of hell not unlike the one Dante wrote about all those centuries ago.

But what’s a little heatwave compared to celebrating Chloe’s achievements?  Nothing, that’s what. My husband is in Nashville this week, so I will send him video that he will be able to watch from the comfort of his freezing hotel room.