[This entry is cross posted at ordinary-times.com]

I’m feeling older this week. My son is now a rising high school senior, though I don’t suppose the “rising” does anything as a modifier. I doubt many recent graduates are still calling themselves seniors so there’s no danger confusing rising college freshmen, graduates entering the job market, or enlisted men and women with disgorged prep school juniors.

He’s considering his future and colleges. Labs loom there. He fancies a career in research; biochemistry. That’s the current plan. He’s not old like I am and gets to change his mind. Is it too early to point out that some chemical reactions require babysitting? I don’t want to helicopter the kid, but he needs to at least consider the advantages of a career where a premature Friday afternoon exit has less chance of resulting in an explosion. But what do I know, right? I’m just the dad. “Ooh la-la.”

That’s kids, though. One track minds, blinders on, whatever the metaphor. You know what I’m talking about. This POETS Day, when you do the right thing – Piss Off Early, Tomorrow’s Saturday – keep in mind that there are impressionable young kids on summer break, milling about town. They’re usually in school that time of day and might not know the importance of a wasted afternoon. Be seen. Mentor a kid by hitting a bar in view of a ballroom dance classroom window. If there’s a kid working a summer job at the market, be loud about why you need sunscreen when you’re supposed to be at work. Show him that shirking doesn’t hide in the shadows. Be a role model.

But first, a little verse to kick start your weekend.