Never Mind the Snakeskin, My Boy Got the Sheepskin

Yet any shred of empathy or respect I had for our boy during this process was blasted out the window. I became the harpy, the shrew, hiding the Xbox controllers in the dog food, shouting, " Your life will be ruined if you don't make an effort here, Sonny Boy!"

After the dust had settled and the applications were sent, we made the college tour. It was late March, and the first of four wait-list letters had arrived. Flannery had an audition for a friend's play in New York, so we decided to go see Bard, NYU, Sarah Lawrence, "Doubt" and "Sweeney Todd." He liked the Bard cross-country coach, but the campus was too deep into the apple orchards for him.

The Sarah Lawrence guide was darling and about to embark on a year in France, so that was his top pick. When we arrived home to more wait-list letters and a rejection, Flannery read them, nodded and said, "I'm scheduling band practice." I wrote engaging thank-you letters to the wait-list schools, masquerading as him -- another low point.

We watch our boy bounce across the stage to claim his diploma, chat with the principal. He had performed with his band, the Flypaper Cartel, on the same stage during junior year, wearing the very same pants and channeling Robert Plant.

After the ceremony, I buy one of those wilted orchids from the flower vendors. I find Flannery in the crowd with Mr. Jones. In the incandescence of the late June morning, I tell Mr. Jones, "Thank you very much." Flannery, beaming, says, "Yeah, hey, thanks!" Mr. Jones shrugs, "He did it." The three of us stand there for a moment not knowing what else to say. I'm afraid suddenly that I'll cry and mortify them both. Someone calls, "Flannery!" and like a shot, he's off to find his friends and begin the celebration.

I slide the orchid inside the graduation program. I'll give it to him later.

contactkerry@kerrymadden.com

Kerry Madden is a children's book author in Los Angeles. Her son has completed his freshman year at UC-Santa Barbara.