Page 70 of Crushing On My Dad's Best Friend

“It’s like I said, Max,” I explain to him calmly for the fourth time this morning, “Your sister goes to a different school, and they have a graduation for middle school.”

He rolls his eyes and opens his mouth to whine some more, but I give him a better suggestion.

“And we’re all going to show our support and our love for Jesse. I’m sure she’d want her big brother there, rooting for her. Wouldn’t you say?” I ask him.

Giving him my best wide-eyed look, which always makes him smile.

“Fine,” he murmurs. “But I still think it’s stupid,” he adds, moving past me with an air of genuine drama.

And always making sure he has the last word, just like his mom.

“Everything alright?” May asks, poking her head out of Jesse’s doorway. Her hair was tied back, and a couple of pins were in her mouth.

Jesse’s graduation dress is in her hands.

“I thought we wereleaving?” I asked, widening my eyes and trying not to sound like my son.

Feeling jipped, I had to wait after being yelled at for holding everyone up a few minutes ago. Now everybody wants to just hang out.

“The ceremony is in a half-hour, honey,” I remind my wife.

But May only creases her mouth, shaking her head a little.

“I’m just taking the hem out a bit…be like five minutes. You can even go warm the car up,” she says confidently.

“You okay, Jesse?” I call out. “We’ll wait for you two in the car, okay?”

“Sure, Dad,” Jesse calls back. “We’ll only be a minute.”

Ten minutes past the start of my daughter’s grade school graduation, we’ve made it.

Parked the van and somehow managed to get Jesse where she needs to be while we all take our seats.

It’s a grade school thing, and some folks like my teenage son Max think it’s stupid.

But apart from all the diploma holders being grade school kids, it looks and feels like a proper college graduation.

Gowns, funny hats, and real diplomas. The whole bit.

It’s got extra special meaning for May, with Jesse not only interested in wearing a dress just like her mom did the day she graduated, but she’s also kinda adopted it. Wanting it to be a dress she can keep for her own kids one day, which was enough to seal the deal with May when she mentioned that part.

“It’s vintage, Mom. Do you even know what that means?” Jesse explained, coveting the dress based on its age as well as its special significance.

“Vintage. Is that what we are now?” I ask May, leaning down to ask her as we watch all the other kids getting their diplomas and applauding.

“Speak for yourself,” she whispers back, making me jump when she squeezes my crotch through my suit pants.

“They don’t make ‘em likethatanymore,” she murmurs, shooting me a little wink.

“Oh! Jesse’s next,Jesse’s next!” she whispers suddenly, telling us all to have our phones ready to take her picture.

Little Jesse looks amazing, with some of my height on her and her mom’s stunning figure, she’s a proud and confident young lady.

And as much as I was inclined to agree with Max on the whole grade school graduation opinion, well…maybe one day. Hopefully, one day, he’ll feel as proud and blessed as I do today.

I’m watching my daughter hold her head high and take her diploma, posing for some photos before joining the rest of her classmates.

Choking up a little, I feel May pressing her handkerchief into my palm, crimping her own mouth as she swells with pride.

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