And nerves of steel.
Okay, so the nerves didn’t come naturally. In fact, took about 7.5 years to really master those two wheels. (A pox on training wheels.)
L: “I think I aced my spelling test today.”
M: Why’s that?
L: “I studied really hard and I have a system.”
M: (He has a lot of systems). How’s it work?
L: “I use my brain like a computer. I scan the words and then store them in my memory. Then when I need to spell them, I see them in my mind and I just copy them down. Just like that.”
M: Wish I had that.
L: “Maybe if you practice a bit more…”
L spent the latter half of his spring break solo with dad in a cabin. Here’s something that I think is basically true (with exceptions, of course). When the fellas are hanging out with other fellas, they ingest only cured meat products, their mouths clamp shut if faced with a vegetable or a fruit, and they forgo bathing at all costs.
I suppose a mother should expect such things. I can only hope we’ve averted scurvy.
To that, soapy, warm, clean L.
L had a buddy hang out for a few days during his spring break. I had to leave early and drove his buddy home from our Spring Break casa. Hugs were exchanged by all.
L hugged his buddy and said, “I love you.”
Buddy: Hmmm… mmmkay.
L: “I, uh, love you like a brother. You know, I like/love you.”
L: “Or, you know, I think you’re great and thank you for coming.”
Buddy: Me, too.
Dad is transitioning to a new job. That and a hard drive failure (#@$##@!!), equals plenty of change (and silence).
L to Dad: “Why are you leaving your company?”
D: Because someone else thinks I’ll be great.
[SIDEBAR: This work move does not entail a physical move for L. It means Dad will work closer to home. Better commute. Better benefits. Exponentially better life.]
L: But what about your old company? What will they do?
D: They’ll be fine.
L: Dad, sometimes work isn’t about the money or fame or power. It’s about love and family and friends. Please don’t turn your back on them.
L: Dad, do you understand the implications of what you’re doing?
D: Yes, I do. And sometimes when your teacher or your friend or your boss doesn’t think you’re doing a great job, you need to find another situation.
L: I hope you’re making a good decision.
D: I think I’m making a great decision. And I’ll keep everything you said in mind.
Just as L began talking about his many conquests (the holding hands, pulling hair variety), this morning he asked where all of his stuffies had gone.
L: “Do we still have Stingy and Sharky and Woofy?”
M: “I think we do.”
Pan to the bed where Sammy the ice-cream sandwich, Bully the bulldog, Ali the albino alligator, and the above are now resting.
There is a reason we don’t throw everything away. The purple blanket he’s slept with from his first breath is still accessible in a heartbeat. Especially because I have it in triplicate.
Can never be too prepared for age eight or eighteen.