My daughter wore a red sweatshirt to school the other morning. I picked her up at her mother’s house and dropped her off at the local high school, as I do every morning during the winter months, but it wasn’t until she was out of the car and headed into school that I noticed that her sweatshirt was one of those printed up by groups of friends who each put their nickname on the back.
We did that in college for our intramural softball team. We call ourselves the Knights, and each of us had a name across the back that began with “sir”: Sir Round (a big fella), Sir Cumference (an even bigger fella), Sir Tainly (always got on base), and so on. Our canine mascot was Sir Beerian Husky.
I was Sir Prize. Nobody expected a glasses-wearing kid with seasonal allergies to hit .600. Surprise!
Well, as she walked away, I saw this printed across the back of my little girl’s red sweatshirt in bold white caps, the name by which she’s known to her inner circle of friends: MIDOL.
Time does have a way of slipping by us, doesn’t it?