The Beginning

 Davis High, senior and sophomore.  They told me I caught them at a bad angle.  Whatever.  There is no bad angle when you're 15 and 17 years old.  Live it up, girls!

 It's the rule:  they have to walk in together.  Optional:  singing "We Are Family" in your head as you walk.

 And then it was Araceli's turn.  7th grade, and all alone at Fairfield Junior High.  At least she has her cousin Jackson there to be her family.  Araceli is ready for this, and so excited.  She has three honors classes, which seemed like a good idea when she was invited to be in them in May.  Then I heard the words "Science Fair Project."  Ugh.  Anyway, I think every one of Ari's teachers is great.  I'm happy.

 Oh, my beautiful baby!  She ran to get her "Chithruby" backpack and eagerly strutted up the street with the rest of the kids.

 Posed for pictures.  "Who, MEEE?"

 This was the attitude Tziporah went into 6th grade with.  She swaggered right into Freestone's classroom and had to be carried out sobbing.  Poor baby, she really believed they wouldn't notice that she was four feet shorter than the other kids.  Ptolemy had to go home too, as he is in afternoon kindergarten.  When we got in the car to do errands, I said, "Well, guys, it's just us!  Where should we go?"  Ptolemy said, "San Diego!"  Tizzy said, "Yeah!  Get our swimsuits on!"

Wow, it's going to be a brutal reality check.

 Finally, it was time!  Again, Tziporah tried to go.

 I'm not ready for my snuggly baby boy to go to kindergarten, but he is.  Darnit!

 Now all I have left is one precocious child who is very disappointed to be left out of all the excitement.  She was so sad walking home, her disappointment was palpable.

I know, Tziporah.  The first day of school is rough.