So here it is. It's time to register Big Rucci for school next year. First grade folks. Wait! I'm not ready! But he is. His teacher says he can do it. She says that he is one of the best in her class. He reads. He adds. He subtracts. He counts and writes to 100. But wait! I'm not ready! Is it really time? How did he grow up so fast?
Gone are the days when I cut his food and wiped his hiney. Now I'm gonna be buying school supplies and scheduling spend the night parties. The next thing I know, he'll ask for a cell phone and then a car. Then he'll leave me, go to college, seduce a bunch of women (like his father did - had to get that in there), get married, have children of his own, think I'm crazy, put me in a home and go on with his life and the whole time I'll be saying, "Wait! I'm not Ready!"
I need a drink and it's only 8:30.
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