Ah, December. With the holidays come colder weather, good food, fun times with family, and for many, graduation. This includes that of a very close family friend of mine, so Shannon, here ya go, written on the internet forever, I'm so incredibly proud of you.

Shannon,

I've known you for 10 years now (it's so weird to say that, like Momma Goya and That Loud Girl Sherrie met when Jack and I were in the 3rd grade... who let time fly that fast), and I've seen you through so many different phases, I've known you through your middle-school-horse-girl-babysitter phase, I've known you through your teenage rebellion, I've known you through both your pregnancies, we've drunk "kayaked" in a pond on the fourth of July together, we've taken on Boone together while sneaking vodka mixed with Mike's Hard in the backseat of the van, and now, I get to see you graduate, I am so proud of you, and I look up to you so much.

College is no easy feat, and you've done it while raising two AWESOME kids who I have the pleasure of calling my "pseudo-nieces". You've graduated from the best college for criminal justice in the state with a 4.0, and I look up to you so much.

When I first met you, you were my favorite babysitter, the one who made Thomas pray when he said "shit" that one time, the one who played "ghost baseball" with us in the backyard (while someone stole our satellite out of the front yard), the only babysitter who didn't take any of Thomas' crap when he didn't want to shower ("Thomas, I will pull your pants down and stick you in the shower myself if you don't go take a shower"). You were always close to Olivia, you guys had that middle kid bond, and as I've gotten older, I'm so glad I've also gotten close to you. You get drunk in Boone with me, you "rescue" me with McDonald's dates when I'm stressed, you picked me up from school when I get dress-coded and need to change, you listen to all my complaining, you give great advice (even if you don't follow it yourself), you keep my secrets, you answer all my weird motherhood questions ("do you feel like a cow when you breastfeed), and you're always down to eat.

So, to my finally-21-will-you-buy-me-wine, "I can make that", "Can you scoot in front of me so I can hide my double chin", wannabe detective, smart as hell, hardworking, awesome mom, awesome friend, of a sister, I am so proud of you. Thank you for always listening to me, thank you for sitting next to me when we go to family dinner because I'm still in that weird not-adult-not-kid stage, thanks for sitting at the kids table at Christmas with me, even though we're both beer in hand and you're a mom of two, thank you for letting me tag along, thanks for buying me wine, and thanks for always loving me. You the realist, I love you.