Eighteen

Well, my precious tiny infant 7lb 4oz son is a man today. Pretty soon he will learn how to make a sandwich and do his own laundry. I kid. Sort of.

We will be going out for sushi tonight at the only sushi place I haven't gotten sick from here in Brazil. Another milestone without Mitch, but the end is sort of in sight, so that's something. No, we still don't have a handshake, but I do have a new prescription. Optimism in a bottle, yo.

It's cute how we drive in to work together every day. He's getting over the horror of seeing me in the chancery halls. He even said, "Hi mom!" to me the other day, but don't worry, I responded with, "Jack! Shhhh. Don't call me mom at work, YOU ARE EMBARRASSING ME."

It's hard to believe he will be getting on a plane next month for college. I wanted to write about how he and his friends got duped at a nightclub a few weeks ago, but I don't want to embarrass him by highlighting his lack of street smarts. Instead, I will embarrass him by saying that his IB scores just came back and he will be able to skip almost a year of college now. I didn't even know that was a thing, you guys. That's a shitload of money!  I'm not going to run out and buy shoes, though, because I've been cleaning out my closet and I keep finding shoes I forgot about. Just kidding, I have some Frye loafers waiting for me in the mail room right now.