Family weekend is an opportunity for group hugs, fancy dinners, and tearful revelations of adoption. As far as emotional roller coasters go, few can beat it. Consider, for example, the cardiac thrill in a grandmother as she watches her grandson get the third and grandest concussion in his football career. An instant recipe for Depends® soup.
It was great to see so many parents attending classes and luncheons, and even partying with their children. Some parents got out of hand, but luckily only a few actually got charged with their crimes. We saw parents drunkenly letting loose, mostly on clothing norms and their kids’ self-esteems. And if there’s one lesson I’ve learned from people’s relatives this weekend, it’s never to believe anyone when they say they’ve “got my nose.” I mean, how am I still breathing, jackasses?
A week ago, if someone had asked me whether I thought relatives were bad ass, I’d say, “never ask me that again,” but now I’d say, “I told you never to ask me that again,” and I would cry tears of Family Weekend trauma.