The day started out great. The air was ripe with promise, tense with expectation. The whole world seemed to be quivering with impatience.

On hindsight, it was more likely was just Dad, radiating impatience and orders, as he screamed and hurried the rest of the family out of the house and into the van.

“Into the van, get inside now. Belt up!”, he screamed, as he danced around juggling two backpacks, a tripod, videocamera and a massive bunch of keys any giant would be proud to own.

“Have you taken the cake, water and snacks? Do you have the balloons?”

“Yes, Yes… We should leave now or we are going to miss it.”

With a huge sigh, we backed out of the driveway.  “Did you turn off the stove?”

“I am not sure. Didn’t you check before you locked up?

“No, I didn’t. Thought you did. Why do you always do this? Why can’t we ever be sure?”

Swearing under his breath, Dad sprinted off to the house for another last minute check. Hopefully, no one was watching!

Panting with the exercise and the hurry,  he sprinted back into the van, the crisp starchiness of his shirt rapidly turning limp. In the back, our graduate leaned over in her seat, chewing gum, and totally indifferent to the fact that we were already 15 minutes behind schedule to her graduation.

“You know, I never really had a proper graduation ceremony”, I reminisced. “It was a few months after my final exams and I never went back there after then”.

“Well, it is nothing special. Just the ceremony, right?”

“Easy for you to say, after all, you had yours when you finished your Masters.”

“Didn’t you do the same for yours? Or did you actually ever complete it?” , he ribbed.

Determined not to give it to the impulse of punching him, I sat in stolid silence for the rest of the journey, nursing my wounded pride.

Soon, we were pulling up at our destination and as we rushed in, we were met by the Director of the school.

“Oh, you guys just missed the opening ceremony”, she sighed. “But the rest of them are all still in their graduation attire and if you would like to take some pictures, you may.” “You may want to get in there and may it quick, young lady!”, She hissed to our daughter.

So, we raced in, determined not to miss the photo shoot. Miss I-don’t-care had gone on ahead, suddenly very much interested in the ceremony and we found ourselves lost in a sea of parents, jostling with each other for prime photo-shoot spots.

Elbows, knees, and heads;  the audience was filled with adrenalin-high parents, excitedly awaiting their  graduates. Extendable Selfie poles hovered over our heads, the nearly continuous flash lights threatened to blind everyone.

A sudden hush fell on everyone as the music swelled and the proud graduates marched in, one after the other. We soon spotted our daughter and oh boy!  Were we proud! The years of handwork melted away, as we looked at her in all the splendor of the graduation gown, cap and the scroll in hand.

There she was, all 44 inches of her, as she stood with her pre-k class, glowing with excitement and the happiness, while hysterical parents screamed and clicked pictures in a frenzy.

And so, there we stood, proud parents of our 5 year old, getting our pictures taken with our 5 year old daughter, as she graduated to Kindergarten, with our 3 month son sleeping in his stroller, with the packed diaper bag and his formula standing ready for his instant satisfaction, if he woke up screaming on the 5 minute ride back home.