Saturday, April 26, 2008

The Weekly Wonderings #57

1. Pete spoke to the mom of Eldest’s best friend on Saturday. I had already invited her son to have a sleepover, but she had declined, indicating that she was worried he wouldn’t be at his best for his lacrosse game Sunday. Pete twirled his Brit magic and, voila, EBF spent the night. EBF’s comment, “Maybe I should always have Pete talk to my mom.”

2. The Webkinz religion gets another boost in our household. Youngest received another one, a second gorilla to add to his growing collection, from one of his birthday partygoers. Rather than give it to his sister, who doesn’t have a gorilla, he kept it and named it “Black Dude.”

3. The moniker is totally innocent, of course, but why do I have visions of him yelling, in his normal top-of-his-lungs voice, “I left Black Dude in the car” when we go on an errand.

4. You know I’m short of cash when I accept Youngest’s offering of $20, “just because.” Dude, click those ads I’ve got so I can stop taking money from a “baby.”

5. And it is official now: my “baby,” 11-year-old Eldest, now wears shoes a size larger than the shoes I wear. No shit, folks, I cried for real when I realized it. Cried. For. Real. Am I pitiful or what?

6. And tell me, all you fine folks out there with grown children – that includes you, Mom – when do you stop needing the kids so much that you can let them out of your lives for days, weeks, months at a time? When does the overwhelming, intense love subside enough for you to let go? It has to, right? ‘Cause I don’t know how I’ll survive when they leave my house.

7. Although, frankly, there are definitely some days that I’d like to give it a try.

8. Out for a bite Friday night with the family at a kid-friendly, louder-than-normal joint, I shush Youngest, only to be admonished by an elderly man who said it didn’t bother him since he had lots of grandchildren. Chastised by an old fart, dude!

9. In the parking lot, grabbing Youngest’s hand and trying to get him to shut the hell up so I can focus on crossing the parking lot, the same elderly man said to me, “Oh, let him make noise. When you get to be our age, we’ll be quiet enough.”

10. When a similar encounter happened between an old fart and a friend my age, I thought it was funny. When it happened to me – a 70-something man likening himself in age to me – it’s not so funny.

Rides to Heaven on a Gyroscope

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