All's well that ends. Period. After a week that started with some disorienting lurches, by week's end some moments of calm and order punctuated by occasional joy have presented themselves.

The school week ended with the eldest competing in a track meet. He was therefore unable to attend one of the biggest all-day keggers of the season at Pillsbury Crossing, where no doubt at least a few of his buddies ended senior skip day by putting their cars in ditches on the way home. Because the eldest is a my-body-is-a-temple kinda guy, we are confident that he doesn't drink, but the fact that he himself doesn't partake doesn't guarantee that harm won't cross his path, or into his lane. But it didn't, not this time.

The middle boy spent Friday evening at an end-of-year carnival and dance at his middle school, returning home in the full flush and frustration of puberty -- so many women, so little time. I'm sure that he could have danced all night. It's a time of change for him: The girl that everyone knows as Stinky now answers only to her given name, Jennifer; the more ignorant his parents grow about life, music, and the urgent need for another Burger King Whopper, the more controlling they become; and new and sometimes exquisite discomforts assault him, from athlete's foot to the primordial one.

Finally, the youngest spent the afternoon at his elementary school's field day, an afternoon of tugged ropes, rolled hoops, and races of the three-legged, relay and egg varieties. A few years ago, the school's new physical education teacher changed the format of the field day activities from individual competitions (fifty-yard dash and the like) to team activities that sometimes involve getting wet, or getting a classmate wet, or best of all, getting a teacher wet. After some initial grumbling, the parents and kids have adapted to the more relaxed format.

The last activity, a wall climb, took place in the school gymnasium/cafeteria, where hangs the mighty mite's star, a star larger than all the rest, for his pull-up prowess. He didn't point it out to me. He knows he's good and he knows that others know it. He ends third grade with another award too: a few weeks off from spelling tests. He completed the year with a perfect recurd on his spelling tests, his third such year. Life-to-date, he's perfect on the quizzes.

So ends another day (at least the online portion) in our soon to be peaceful hamlet. KSU graduation ceremonies are taking place as I type this, and students are leaving town in droves and Land Rovers. There's much to be said for life in a college town after the students have fled, but the Saturday housework and yardwork awaits.