Pomp and Circumstances I forgot to anticipate

I just didn't know that it was going to be such a big deal. It's eighth grade, for God's sake, not high school.

The story goes like this:

A week ago my mother-in-law informed me that her grandson's graduation ceremony would be today. Her grandson. My son. I told her I didn't think so. It was a "step up" something or other, when the kids prepare to go from middle school to high school. Step up, not graduation.

No, she said. I called the school. It's graduation. 9:30 at the high school.

Good enough. Middle school graduation. No big deal.

David couldn't make it to the "graduation," but Wolfgang said he didn't care. It's not a big deal, he said.

Grandma asked me what she should wear. I told her that if I wasn't going to work immediately afterward, I'd be wearing shorts and a t-shirt. It's casual - not a big deal.

But I forgot that this is the trophy generation, and EVERYTHING is a big deal.

We arrived at the high school to find custodians directing lines of traffic of parents and grandparents, dressed up and carrying arms full of flowers for their grads.

Whoops.

The 90 minute ceremony was actually quite nice, and quite full - speeches, awards, music, diplomas. Add caps and gowns and you'd have the exact same ceremony that's going to take place on the exact same stage tomorrow night when the seniors graduate high school.

Don't get me wrong. The whole thing was all very nice, and I'm proud of my kid and his friends and all they've accomplished. I'm only grateful that there wasn't a standing ovation at the end of it all. That would have been more than I could handle.