Swiftly fly the years, and shit.

I am outraged.

I just returned from a marathon of emotional manipulation the likes of which I have not experienced since that fucking E.T. almost died but then (spoiler alert!) didn't die and returned to his alien peoples. And I am outraged! I said that already.

Picture, if you will, twenty rosy-cheeked preschoolers wearing paper mortarboards, solemnly processing to a taped version of "Pomp and Circumstance." Then those same preschoolers singing a cappella songs about growing up and learning their numbers. Then those SAME damn kids, some of them waving to their parents, getting their preschool diplomas. And wait a minute, one of them is your son! And he's standing incredibly still so as to keep the mortarboard on his head, and he's gazing at his diploma with obvious satisfaction and pride! And his teachers are crying! DAMN THEM ALL TO HELL. I was there to take pictures and congratulate my son, not frantically blink back tears while scouring my purse for a used Kleenex. My stomach still hurts from holding in the sobs. Dicks! All of them!

And it's not even like he's really graduating from preschool—he still has another year of preschool because some genius decided to be born six days after the cut-off date. But still, DAMN IT, it was adorable.

While you're here, I've got a Wonderland post from this week for you to read, and also from last week. Please note that the URL for Wonderland has changed. There are some exciting new changes over at Alphamom, including new Baby Name Finder and Product Ratings sections. Change is good, unless it arrives in the form of your child graduating and his school faculty and administration creating an event designed solely to make you sing "Sunrise, Sunset" to yourself and leave mascara puddles on your husband's button-down.