Suddenly, memories I didn't remember I had have all come flooding back to center stage. Nostalgia has washed over me, bathing me in the past, reminding me that the innocence I see upon my daughter's face was once mirrored on my own.
Raising a teenager is like being a Kremlinologist during the Cold War. For those trying to navigate, here's a primer on how to attend the prom at one suburban New York high school. At least these appear to have been the rules yesterday. They may have changed by today.