My boy is graduating high school next month. Of course, he's not the first kid to do it, and he won't be the last.
I did it - one of the very few items on the short list of things I've actually finished. But I didn't have nearly the celebration he's going to have this weekend.
There's a reason for that. High school now isn't anything like what it was back then.
I never had the hours and hours of homework he's had to navigate through. All while participating in and student directing school plays, playing in the school jazz band and orchestra and being president of the student council. Not to mention the guy who brings four dozen donuts to the rehearsals at 7 a.m. (I drive him to those morning rehearsals. Where's my donut?).
It's a whirlwind just writing about it. Back in the day we had homework, but it wasn't a second career. It was just, you know, homework. Then time for TV.
And while he's off to one of the country's top film schools at a major university in the next few months, I hope he'll remember and take to heart the one thing I've tried to drill into him over the years while he's been so consumed accomplishing so much.
"When you direct your first Marvel movie, daddy wants a big house."
