Today, my firstborn will walk out the doors of his elementary school and never return. He may come as a guest to watch his little brother’s plays or something like that, but his days as an elementary student are over. Enter middle school. And can I tell you that it just frightens the daylight out of me? (There’s daylight in me? I had no idea there was daylight in me.) (Moving on.) I have concerns about my son going to a public middle school. There are moments when I want to pluck him right out of our public school system, put him in his room and not let him out into the world until he’s 22. But that’s not realistic. So for this year, he will go. He will attend a new school with older kids who know more than he does and who will tell him things that I’m not ready for his little boy self to hear. Thankfully, he communicates with me and we discuss just about everything under the sun…no matter how red my cheeks get when he asks. Because at least he asks. So, if you’ll excuse me, I have an end-of-the year party to attend followed by a “clap out” where all of the 5th grade students walk out of the school for the last time while all of the younger students and many parents line the hallways applauding them and showing them honor. But first, I must find my waterproof mascara. What?