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. . . and I have to share one from today:

Yes, that’s my baby getting into a limo in front of my house, wearing a tux for the first time, and heading out for his high school’s “Homecoming” festivities.

How did he ever get to be so grown up? So tall? So handsome? So adorable?
(Obviously, based on the behavior of the girls who were here, not only his mother thinks he is very good-looking!)

How did we get from this little boy on his way down the hotel stairway to play on Pismo Beach . . .

. . . to this handsome guy riding in the back of a limo?

I know, I know . . . I’m asking questions every parent asks. And all of you who have gone through the teen-age years with yours are nodding your heads right now, empathizing with my wonderment at how fast the time went by.

And this isn’t even the worst of it. #1 Son is going to be 20 years old in March and is a junior in college!

I wish my parents and in-laws had been here today to see him. I like to think that they did, but from their eternal vantage point. My father would not have been able to contain his pride, no matter how reserved he normally was. Simply put, Papa would have popped a few buttons!

Of course, he didn’t look so bad in a tux himself, as this vintage photo, taken December 7, 1985, shows:

See a resemblance? I sure do. I used to think that #1 Son was the spitting image of his grandfather and that Matthew looked more like a Siess. But as time has progressed, Robert is looking more and more like his father, while Matthew has definitely taken on more Hickok characteristics. Of course, he still acts just like his father!

And who are those young girls in the picture on either side of Papa, especially that one in the white outfit? Oy! Now I’ve gone and done it. I’ve given you “before” and “after” photos to look at so that you can see just how kind — or unkind — time has been!

Yes, my birthday is in 6 days. Gggggggrrrrrrrr . . . I got a letter in the mail from AARP. Hubby thought that was the funniest thing that has happened in years. I was not amused, especially when it was followed in the next day’s mail by an offer from some idiotic insurance company informing me of their “Senior Final Expense Program.” I couldn’t write “Return to Sender” fast enough, with an added note: “Remove me from your mailing list. I am NOT a ‘senior.'” Of course, that just made him laugh more and I had to remind him that he will always be 6 years older than I am. Something tells me that it is going to be a long week.

Undeterred, he bought me an early birthday card during his weekly pilgrimage to Wal-Mart:

Ok, that is pretty hysterical. I admit it. I laughed a long time when he gave it to me and, frankly, I’m still cracking up as I type this. What’s sad about it is the fact that I still have the Village People album featuring “YMCA” in a box somewhere in the garage with all of my other records (Eagles, Linda Ronstadt, Jackson Browne, James Taylor, Carly Simon, Doobie Brothers, et. al.) Yes, I discoed! I confess! I had slinky little Danskin outfits (yes, I was thin enough to wear them) and Sbicca shoes. I actually went to dance clubs and took the free lessons before the evening’s festivities began. We all did! We went to gay and straight clubs, depending on whether we just wanted to dance and have fun, or check out the other guests. I always had more fun in the gay clubs, though, because, for the most part, the guys were much better, less inhibited dancers, and there was no pressure to impress anyone because they weren’t going to call me for a real date later!

Yes, these are the stories that make my sons cringe. Matthew says, “Mom, TMI!” (“Too much information” for those of you without teenagers.

And what did Matthew do when he got home tonight? After he got back into his own comfortable clothes (translation: boxers and a t-shirt), he grabbed the blanket that he still drags around the house like Linus, plopped down on the couch and proceeded to watch an episode of “Sponge Bob Square Pants.” Hey, you can only act like a grown-up for so long, right? Oh, yeah . . . then he yelled, “I’m hungry,” even though he had just eaten dinner shortly before getting home. That’s my boy!

And now I have to go collapse. For some reason, the whole process of helping him get ready, taking the photos, watching the limo drive off, and then hearing all about the evening when he got home, just exhausted me! Good thing I’m on vacation so I can rest up and get ready for the big event on Thursday!

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