In my tiny world of actual tiny children, however, it was all-but a toddler pageant. Chubby fingers and arms were being guided through smock-robes. Cardboard caps were being placed and sometimes bobby pinned on. We’d been practicing cute little diddies about letters and numbers off and on for weeks to put on a show. My three year olds who weren’t graduating were being given rolled up paper megaphones so that they could cheer on their older classmates, and Tracy and I were racing against the clock so that everything was ready to go.
“What’s going on with you two?” Tracy asked. “You’ve been avoiding her.”
I scoffed. “How do you know that?” I turned to one of the four year olds. “Hold still Mickey. Your cap is coming loose.”