Check out my oldest girl, who traveled the halls of her high school last week in Renaissance finery, regaling the lucky minions with Shakespearean sonnets as a fundraiser for the Drama Club. Yes, those are pearls in her hair.
One of the tall boy's pals commented to me later that he was a little embarrassed when she went down on one knee before him in the middle of his math class, and began to spout "really mushy stuff."
I said to him, "That's OK. When you are 49 years old, and your knees hurt when you play basketball with your kid, and the traffic stinks, you will be able to call up the memory of a beautiful young woman who recited a love poem to you -- on behalf of another beautiful young woman."
He looked at me very seriously, and then he said, "I'll be a lucky man, won't I?"