Friday, December 14, 2012

That boy.

I don't know how it happens. You're minding your own business making lattes and flirting for tips on the coffee cart and having a great summer and you unsuspectingly answer the phone. No, she's not home. Me? I'm going to go get a book. And suddenly you're married with 2 kids wondering what on earth has happened. But, friends, this is nothing compared to what happens when that other boy appears.

I know, I know. When your mom said, 'that boy' your interested was immediately piqued because you knew her opinion simply by the preceding that. It made him irresistible even if you were smart enough to know he was bad news. Honestly, you were 17. You may have been smart, but you certainly didn't know better. Not to worry, now that you're in your mid-(cough)-late thirties you have a solid grasp on hot mess, resistibility and suggestibility.

But, that boy catches you off guard every single time. He makes you crazy. He talks ALL the time. His legs take up the whole couch. You have to say things like, 'Don't hit your sister. You never look good hitting a girl.' You have to watch what you leave lying about the house because he can't stop reading. Especially your not-so-secret trashy novel habit. He tells his teacher his one big wish for the world is 'no homeless'. His favorite place in the world is home. He slips an extra cookie in his lunch bag in case his favorite principal stops by at lunch time so he can share. He builds a microphone out of Tinker Toys for his sister and plays every song he can on the piano so she can sing a concert. He even rounds up the audience and nags them to clap. Louder!
What is it about boys anyway?

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