My lovely goddaughter, R, turns 14 today, so I'll be trundling over to Mike's house for dinner. Last I heard, she and her little sister were supposed to go out shooting with their dad (he moonlights as a vigilante crime fighter, so yes, they'll be shooting people); I wonder how this might affect whatever birthday party plans they have. For the moment, I'm assuming that dinner equals birthday party, if the first part of the day is being devoted to shooting. (This will be the girls' first-ever day of shooting.)
R is now a high school freshman. A Frosh. A n00b. She's also--finally-- taking her first French class. For the past couple of years, I've been irritated at her county (Stafford) for its dearth of foreign language programs; in my view, she should have started French at least two years earlier. That's not R's fault, of course; she just happens to be living in a county that has, shall we say, different priorities. In any case, she's tracking into the IB program, which means she has to do two years of French in a single academic year; I'll have the chance to be useful to her, and not just be her joke-cracking godfather. This makes me happy.
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Sunday, September 11, 2011
14
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