I had not been informed of this tradition, and I only found out about it when another parent told me what was expected. This got even more surprising when the OG ran over at halftime, and told my mother and father in law that she had arranged for them to also be part of her coterie. So, with G-Lo alongside, I gamely wheeled Granddad down the field for the OG's moment. Eighth grade ain't like it used to be.
Following on that sentiment, the cheerleaders then finally got to reveal their halftime dance routine, complete with frenzied musical accompaniment.
A lot better than the cheerleaders at Saint Anne's, my alma mater, which had neither cheerleaders nor football.
Following the routine, the outgoing eighth graders gave their final performance.
But O Joy, O Rapture. At the pizza potluck afterward, the OG came over to breathlessly inform us that the school had agreed to fund another season of cheerleading, and that the team would also be entering a competition. Because after all, how can you beat dancing and winning at the same time.