I'm Married to a Master

We tried to get there early, so as to get good seats.  Silly.  A few thousand others had the same idea.  We lugged the stroller down the arena staircase, just in case Landon felt like taking a walk in the middle of a long recitation of graduate names.  My sweet mom agreed to take baby-duty so Justin's parents and I could stay for the photo-ops. 

Of which there were few. 

Can you see Justin here?  We could!  I mean, for a second before he was swallowed up by the procession.  I got some prideful chills watching him walk, straight and tall and handsome, up the aisles to his seat.

But here!  We found him again!  He was in the first row -- a million miles away from us.  See? 

So when his name was about to be called, I knew that any photo I could take of him walking forward for his crowning moment would be filled with about five hundred of his matching peers. 

JumboTron (or whatever) to the rescue!  That's him!  Getting his Master's diploma!  About to have his scarf-thing draped over his shoulders!

While the other gadjillion graduates' names were being read, I took a hike around the arena to find a better angle.  Still, he was pretty far away.

But we had ample entertainment otherwise.  This fella was quite distracting.  Until he became quite exhausted.

He was one sad boy on the drive home; I think it was because we had to leave without him getting to have his picture taken with Master-Daddy. He was just too tired to stay any longer.  As it was, he cried for 45 minutes of the drive home, making me cry with him.  That part?  Not so cool.

All the rest?

So cool. 

I could not be more proud of my Justin and all of his hard -- seven years in the making -- work.