A step forward.

On the last day of school when the elementary community gathers 'round the flag pole for one last lowering of the flag, singing of the school song, and, inexplicably except it's tradition, dancing of the chicken dance, The Ones Big and Short seldom do more than stand silently. And sweat.
It is the hottest day of every memory of mine for every year I've been alive. (There was the time I passed out at Aquarena Springs in the middle of summer, but that was largely because I was an 8-year-old hell bent on wearing my new denim culottes and brown, winter, zipper boots.) The chicken dance/flag pole ceremony is the hottest in RECENT memory. Every year.
Today, my schedule was as precise as a neurosurgeon. The traffic cooperated w/ my last day of school errands. The traffic lights cooperated. My sweet hair stylist cut my hair in under an hour, which NEVER happens cuz she's so good. I dropped stuff off. I picked stuff up.
And I made it to the flag pole on time.
Without my camera.
Aside from pictures taken in the parish hall of our church, which are horrid shots simultaneously over-flashed and badly lit, of blurry images of green stage carpet, white tile floor and fluorescent lights, the chicken dance/flag pole pictures are the worst. Lots of asphalt, tree tops, blurry faces in motion and The Ones Big and Short. Standing. Still. And sweating.
Today, as brand new 2nd and 5th graders, they danced. They smiled. They do-si-do'd w/ their buddies. They interacted w/ their teachers. They hung their sweaty arms around the sweaty necks of their friends.
I have no pictures of the day they decided to sweat AND dance.
I have overloaded backpacks that need to be purged.
I have lunch boxes that need to be trashed.
I have water bottles that need to be scalded.
I have two PRIMO report cards. Richly deserved. And rightly earned.
I have boys who need hair cuts.
I have a list of chores and things to do and see.
I have summer.
We might be sweaty.
But, I'll take pictures.