Whew. Glad that's over.
You know, it's been 32 years since I've been a 13 year old girl, and time had kindly blurred and smoothed that particular phase of my life into a hazy, soft-focus, dream-like fuzz so that I have trouble remembering if events actually happened or not. Maybe what I think happened was actually an episode of "Mork and Mindy".
Today I was reminded of the full-metal jacket, zero-to-sixty, tsunami of emotions that 13-year-oldness can really be.
Thing 1 arrived at school today to find that all of her friends are in the other Grade 8 class. The other class, people. Across the hall. Oh, the humanity.
My observation that this would be a perfect opportunity to be able to focus more on her school work than her social life was met with glare that could be classified as a Weapon Of Mass Destruction.
To be fair, I do get that this was the Pearl Harbour of Grade 8 socialization....the Japanese swooped in, decimated your resources, shattered any illusion you had of security and all before 9 a.m. It was a tough start to the day.
Lo and behold, learned later in the day that the administration decided to do some shuffling and Thing 1 would be moved to the Most Coveted of Grade 8 Classes, and all is right with the world. It was a short ride, but an intense one.
Thanks, Universe, for reminding me that being 13 is a lot of work.
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