Pass the Kleenex

I watched my 5-year-old niece graduate from Kindergarten last night.

Hard to believe she'll soon be ready for first grade. Maddie is a bundle of energy, a feisty spirit with an ear-to-ear grin that can melt away your worries. She looked super cute in her new dress and sparkly pink shoes, with blonde locks a shade I still can't get my hairstylist to recreate.

Mid-way through the ceremony, I realized I had a serious problem.

The kids' teacher was presenting various awards to the students, such as 'Most likely to become an architect, Best Smile,' etc, when I realized my eyes were welling with tears. Long AFTER my niece had received the award for 'Best Bookworm,' I found myself crying for kids I didn't know.

WHAT WAS WRONG WITH ME?

As parents cheered for their kids, like the brunette boy who looked uncomfortable in a fancy tie and dress pants cinched with a belt, I felt that lump in my throat.

I recall doing the same thing during a recent episode of SuperNanny, as the family waved the British kid-expert goodbye.

I cried all through my situps. This never happened before becoming a mom.

Help.