The 8th graders began their celebration week with a graduation party at the local college. Mark was most excited that it was a free dress event (he hates school uniforms) and came running outdoors in a South Park shirt when I picked him up at home.
"You cannot wear that shirt," I said, before he even opened the door. "Go change."
"Why???" he asked, pointing at Cartman in his sunglasses under the words "Respect My Authority." "Grandma bought this for me!"
"Only because she didn't know who that was," I said. "Now go change."
He did, reluctantly. Finally, we headed off to Jonah's house to pick up his friends.
When we arrived, I realized Mark isn't the only 14-year-old who wants nothing to do with his mom--Jonah, Sean and Mark immediately ran away from us, and climbed in the car. Karen, Liz and I talked them out, insisting on pictures to commemorate the moment. The boys have been friends since they were wee little 8-year-old Cub Scouts, and the moms wanted a nice picture of how much they've grown up since.
But like the Rolling Stones say, you can't always get what you want...especially when your models are exasperated teenagers intent on ruining the photo.
Jonah and Sean look great here...but Mark closed his eyes.
Mark opened them just a tad, but then Sean got in on the act...
And why close your eyes when you can open your mouth really wide??
Sean got tired and distracted, Mark just started making...weird...faces.
OK, even Jonah gave up and realized this was a lost cause. Still, this sequence shows why Jonah is my favorite kid, especially that day.
Finally, we all had enough of Mark's dumb faces and loaded them in the car. I don't know who was more relieved, the boys or the moms.
To give the kids some freedom, 8th grade parents aren't allowed at the party. Instead, the 7th grade parents chaperone the party, and the 8th grade parents just clean up afterwards (when, presumably, there is less chance of being a complete embarrassment to your kid). Karen and I were chaperones last year, so we knew what to expect--a little dancing, some pool playing and bowling, and lots of gorging on candy (between the candy, pizza and smoothies, I completely expected Mark's blood sugar to skyrocket).
Luckily, we had a spy--our friend Kimmi, who's son is a 7th grader. Kimmi, a chaperone, promised to keep us updated (which really meant telling us if the boys talked to--gasp!--girls).
Karen, Liz and I went off to dinner. We were enjoying crepes and wine when Kimmi's first text arrived.
"Kids are on the dance floor," Karen read aloud. "Now they're twerking!"
"Tell Mark to stop!" I answered, because let's face it, there's always a very good chance Mark's starting these things.
The next text beeped a moment later.
"Was girls, not Mark," Karen read. "Twerking has stopped."
We all breathed a sigh of relief, because it stopped, and because it really wasn't Mark after all.
We moved on to a more important task--choosing a dessert crepe. It was more difficult than you'd think--Karen wanted chocolate, but nothing with bananas, and Liz wanted something without nuts (she's allergic). Which was impossible, since all the chocolate crepes contained Nutella, and all the other crepes had bananas.
"How about this one?" Liz asked, pointing at the description. "Let's just ask them to substitute strawberries for the bananas."
Which seemed easy enough--until I noticed the crepe's name---banana cream pie! We cracked up.
Eventually, we rolled out of the restaurant, and returned to the school, where Kimmi said Mark spent the whole night dancing. (I was not surprised at all.) We hid behind other parents, trying to sneak a peek at our boys, who immediately saw us and melted into the crowd. Eventually, they just ran off the dance floor entirely.
They returned a few minutes later for the 8th grade group picture.
And for a few smaller group pictures. I was (kind of) glad to see Mark didn't limit his dumb faces to only my photos, although it was still annoying.
Karen, Liz and I joined the clean up crew while our boys ran off. They repeatedly raided the candy bar as we cleaned up, so I kept shooing Mark away.
Finally, the student union was clean, and we drove home, just Mark and I.
"Did you have a good time?" I asked.
"Yeah," Mark said, smiling. "A really good time. That was really fun!"
"I'm glad," I said. I knew he'd have a blast.
"I'll miss my friends next year," he said. "The ones going off to other high schools."
This was the first time he'd opened up about that, so I just nodded and listened.
"Kind of a bummer," he said.
"It is," I agreed. "At least you have their numbers. You can text or call them."
"I guess," he said, looking out the car window. "But it'll be a lot different."
I glanced over at him. Just a minute ago, he'd been a goofy kid intent on photobombing all the pictures; now, on the quiet ride home, he was much more reflective.
It'll be okay, I wanted to say, you'll make lots of new friends. But I didn't want to minimize his feelings for his old friends, the kids he'd spent the past six years with, the kids he was so attached to now. He didn't remember much of his early elementary school years, but these years, and these friends, he cherished. And it was just now hitting him that it was all over.
"Yeah," I finally said, because nothing else seemed enough. "Yeah."
I parked the car and patted him on the shoulder.
"I'm glad tonight was fun," I said again. "High school is gonna be different--maybe scary at first, but fun. I'll miss Cubberley, too. It's scary saying goodbye, but nowadays, you never really say goodbye. You text or Facebook your friends--you don't have to lose touch."
He nodded.
"When I was a kid," I said, realizing just how old I sounded, "You moved on, and that was it--nobody had smart phones or social media. Maybe you kept in touch by writing letters, but usually not. So you're a lot luckier today--you actually can stay in touch with them all."
He nodded again. I knew he heard me, but I also knew he wasn't really listening. He was thinking about all these years, these kids, even his big, new school and how different next year would be.
"Let's go," I said, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. "Time for bed. High school's gonna be crazy busy--this may be the last time you sleep for four years!"
He laughed at that. And I smiled, partially because it's true, and partially because I felt the same way he did--a little bit scared of the future, but ready to take it on.
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