My nephew Tyler is Daria’s older son. He is 12. When I plunk down on the couch at their house, Tyler plunks down next to me and tries out his comic material, continuing the family tradition of regarding anyone not actively fleeing as a captive audience. It helps if you’ve already stolen the car keys and hidden them in the guest bathroom, which trick I should probably tell him I invented and please knock it off. Anyway, Tyler is starring in his middle school’s musical this weekend. It’s a rite of passage for us. Everyone must pass through music and dance and school plays and community theater and study, study, study. So this is very exciting for the whole family. Pete and I, Anya and Corinne and three of their children have tickets for tomorrow’s show, where no one should be surprised when we do the wave. Or selections from Cole Porter.