Mr. Smarty Pants is responsible for making me cry today. He seems to do that a lot lately. He doesn't mean to. It's not on purpose. And most times, he doesn't even know he did. Today, I sat back and watched from a few feet away, my baby, in his first job interview. Wow. For real? Yes. A real job. It's at a small ice cream shop just down the road, about 1/2 a mile away. He wore a tie, and I didn't even tell him to. He combed his hair, brushed his teeth, and practiced adding and subtracting change. When asked when he could and could not work, I listened to my first born explain very confidently, that he could and would work anytime except Friday night sundown to Saturday night sundown due to the Sabbath. The owner nodded her head, and said that she totally respected that wish. Twenty minutes later, he was offered a job. He sat tall, and said Thank You. He used full sentences, never once said Um or I don't know. I wanted to jump up and shout YES! Next we need to find out how and where to get him a work permit, which he needs until he turns 16 in August. He is excited. I am feeling melancholy. But proud. Oh so proud.