A nostalgic wave comes over me this time every year. Remembering the first days of our children's school years. 'Nuff to bring a tear to my eye and a catch in my throat.
I made sure he had everything he needed today ... black pants, black shoes, black socks, black belt, zebra shirt and his whistle. I sent him out the door with a kiss and his briefcase, telling him: For Pete's sake, Hubby, remember this is a high school varsity game between the Charter School and the Christian School, not the Olympics. Call a good game!"
Ah, the first day of the refereeing year. Pardon me whilst I find a tissue.