My oldest brought home her first yearbook today. She poured over the pages in the car on the way home, and spent another hour leafing through the pages on the couch as soon as she got home. She's not in any of the extracurricular pictures, as far as I can see, but nevertheless, she's inspecting each page as though it holds some significant meaning to her.

In a way I guess it does. I remember gleefully paging through my own junior high yearbooks, looking for any glimpse of my young, photobomber-self in the background of candid photos featuring the "Popular Kids." By high school, of course, I was happy to not be in that one band photo where everyone makes the crazy faces, and inexplicably found myself labeled as a participant in the non-existent "Creative Writing Club" in a random photo.

I think I was voted "shortest" one year, which is not something that requires a vote, in my opinion. Either you are the shortest, or you are not.

I can't wait until she gets all the kids to finish signing this thing so I can see what this year's Hot Tagline is for yearbook signing. Because I will be using the crap out of it. Just you watch me.