Oh, that’s my boy

Some kids just finish preschool.

Others rock out.

And yes, I cried. But only a little. Not that Gabe didn’t try to provoke, with his, “I’m sorry you won’t have a preschooler anymore. Will you be sad when you don’t have a preschooler anymore?” on the way into the building. Little stinker. But it’s hard to be mopey, I have to tell you, when you’re listening to a herd of precious voices singing the months of the year to the tune of, and while dancing, “The Macarena.” And the metal horns he kept tossing up were priceless.

(For comparison. If you’ll excuse me, I need to find a rocker and a cane now.)