Monday was the first day of school, but first I had to write about hemorrhoids, and then about ice cream

Only a year ago, they were wearing adorable shirts, waiting for the bus.

Fast-forward to this week, and they're wearing shirts (and sporting hairstyles) of their own choosing.

It's a crying shame that we own no hairbrushes.

This was the first year that I didn't even ask to pick out their clothes. Or brush their hair. Not that either of those things is apparent or anything.

I didn't argue when they wanted to take Oreo Pop-Tarts in the car, even though they were heading straight to breakfast.

I didn't ask for too many pictures.

Just one of each of them, for their scrapbooks.

And I didn't ask for a hug goodbye ... or even for them to acknowledge me at all as they got out of the car.

I didn't make a big deal out of it as they trudged up the sidewalk toward the front doors ...

And I didn't expect them to look backward as they walked through them.

I must be growing up.