So today my family waited in line for hours and hours to pay our respects to a young boy who died too soon. Again. We went went to the calling hours with hundreds and hundreds of Newtown friends, students, teachers, families, coaches and neighbors for a 13 year old boy from my kid’s 7th grade class who died “unexpectedly” at home. 13. Just 13. Thirteen. 7th grade. Pollywogs and skateboards.
My youngest kid, the tweeny, 11 year-old Boy, recently expanded his vocabulary quite a bit, thanks to some older middle school athletes. With an unfortunate lacrosse birthday that pitted him against 6th and 7th graders rather the kinder, gentler, fart-obsessed 5th graders, he returned from the first lax tryout proclaiming: “These kids are really tall, really hairy, and they’re all talking about Izzy.” Izzy is our slightly older than her