|I unpacked this|
I have two tasks at these graduations: 1) Don't make a fool of myself by blubbering or shouting "Mah bay-bee!" 2) Iron the academic regalia.
This isn't as easy as one would think it would be. Not the composed part, the ironing part. The composed part I can handle in my sleep--after two hours of watching Someone Else's Child walk across the stage, my mind is much more on whether we'll be able to find seats later at the restaurant than on savoring the sentiment of the moment.
But the ironing? First of all, the equipment is never exactly what I expect. I knew Boy#4 had an ironing board because I had packed it into the closet of his apartment myself. It was a hand-me-down from Boy#1, who actually irons and who bequeathed most of his worldly college goods to his younger brother when One graduated and skedaddled out of town.
However, because he irons, One took his iron with him to his grown-up home, which prompted the following exchange just before Commencement:
Four: Mom, could you iron my graduation gown? It was really wrinkled when I took it out of the bag.
Me: Do you have an iron?
Fortunately he determined that his roommate did indeed have an iron. It was in the box in the closet, having been a high school graduation gift four years earlier. I had the honor of opening the box, removing all the packing materials, and plugging the iron in for the first time. I also managed to calibrate the temperature correctly so that it did not melt the "fabric" of the gown, a task that is not as easy as it seems and the entire reason that I have taken over the ironing gig. It also made short shrift of the two pairs of khakis and two dress shirts that Four's brothers threw onto the ironing pile when they realized their own clothes had not made it to Texas unwrinkled. ("Thanks, Mom!")
Ah, boys. You have to love 'em. Because that kid you see crossing the stage there, in the perfectly smooth gown and commemorative stole?
That's MAH BAY-BEE!