Once again my husband and I are wearing the title “Parents of a Graduate”.

We are not alone. You can spot a “Parent of a Graduate” anywhere – if you know the signs.

We are the ones with the shopping carts full of large quantities of single items holding three page lists doing mental math in the baking aisle.

The fifteen boxes of rice krispies and cart full of marshmallows tipped off the checker at our local grocery store. She gave me a questioning look and I said just, “She wants rice krispie treats for graduation.”

She then gave me a look of pity that said simply, “Ah, a graduation. I feel your pain.”

We parents of graduates understand the stress and joy of a spring with a commencement and Open House. We don’t even even need words.

As we pushed our cart full of purple Hawaiian punch and even more marshmallows through Wal-Mart, we caught the attention of another couple with a cart full of large quantities of a single item and a three page list.

Again, the questioning look.

My quick answer, “Rice krispie treats for graduation.”

She responds, “Twins.”

I sympathize, “Twice the good bye – but only one party.”

Our eyes meet as we wish each other good luck and we leave them in the chip aisle doing mental math with glazed looks as we went in search of large bags of M & M’s and an industrial size bottle of barbecue sauce.

My graduation table is full now of plates and cups and napkins. Soon the smoked turkey will all be roasted and in crock pots, the buns will be made and the rice krispie treats ready to serve.

The house will be clean and the lawn will be mowed and there will be no more busy work to distract us from the reality that is coming.

That it’s our child in that cap and gown.

It’s our baby that’s graduating.

And then the tears will fall.

Yes, I’m a parent of a graduate.