The deed is done. My first and only daughter is successfully installed at college.
At the last minute, she decided that the brothers should come to drop her off, so our six-pack family crammed into the Suburban with all her crap and headed south. It was pretty normal for the first 6 hours of the drive, jabbing, crabbing, laughing and snoozing. But as we headed into Kansas City, roughly 30 minutes from our destination, things turned. A quick slam of the brakes, due to road construction, sent her jewelry box flying. She swore a couple of times and started snapping at all of us. I knew it wasn't about the jewelry, but it set the tone for the rest of the day.
My college-bound daughter has just started getting materials for the sorority rush at her new school. We are both conflicted about this. There are plenty of stories and movies which will extol the evils of snotty sorority girls and their meathead counterparts, the frat boy. Some hazing stories make me want to shake. And yet, I was a sorority girl, nay the President of my chapter which was a national organization. If you knew then what you know now, would you join up?
Breakfast in bed has never been attractive to me. I know that it's not about a decadent culinary experience, that it's a gift to be swooned over, but it's so hard to swoon when you feel like you have little sweaters covering all of your teeth.
