So there I was, knelt in the middle of the playground, sacrificing a goat to the God of sanity.
There were tears. Some poignant, others with relief.
The air thick with disinfected corridors and industrial strength perfume.
The paparazzi circled, each clambering for that money shot of their future child star.
There was chatter. Lots of chatter.
“They look so young”,
“It only seems like yesterday”
“Courtney, get your finger out of your nose!”
Parents releasing their grip with reluctance, encouragement, reassurance, and an occasional elbow in the back (yep, I saw you!)
Then silence … briefly … broken only by the sound of a disheveled Tyler being dragged across the playground by the hood of his coat.