Our High School Freshman

The boy is not so much a grand fan of having his picture smacked onto the blog or Facebook.  He lets me know this by continually avoiding my camera, or by closing his eyes, deliberately and also on purpose, when he is forced to smile for a picture.

I’m forever letting him know that poor behavior in front of Mama’s camera translates into receiving wrapped packages of boxers and socks and new deodorant for your birthday.

Today, though, I used my Mother’s Privilege of Override (the MPO), because that big boy of ours has pulled off some major accomplishments lately.  I thought it was high time to shout out HIS praises, instead of letting his little brother take all the blog and Facebook glory.

So, without further ado, may I introduce you to the boy?


This big boy of ours is a freshman (at least for one more week of his life here; don’t even get me started on that emotional rollercoaster, because I can show you an ugly cry that will make you think about calling a doctor for prescription help, as I face the thought of my kid growing up so quickly).

Last week, he lettered in academics.  We missed the big ceremony, where the kids wore dress slacks and ties and walked across the auditorium’s stage to shake hands with their principal and receive their letter, because the boy was off at a golf tournament, freezing in the wind and the rain.  When he picked his letter up later in the week at the school’s office, they let him know that he’s in the top 5% of the freshman class right now, as far as grades are concerned.  This may spell out I GOT INTO HARVARD, when what Mama wants is for him to just hang out at home for a while and see what GOING TO COLLEGE ONLINE, FROM HOME (!!!) might look like, because I AM NOT PREPARED FOR HIM FLYING MY NEST IN THREE MORE YEARS.

I’d like to say that the boy got all of his academic gifting from me, but here’s the honest truth:  That kid LOVES biology and chemistry and geometry and algebra, so he may not even be my child.  WHERE?  Where is the love for ALL THE ENGLISH THINGS, Son?


After pulling off an academic letter last week, he turned right around and received a letter in golf two days later.  He golfed on the varsity team this season, and boom!  There’s his athletic letter.  I won’t even claim to have blessed the boy genetically with any golf talent, because WHAT’S GOLF?  That’s the sport with the club and the tiny white ball, right?  Mama was a soccer and softball player her entire life; Daddy was a wrestler and baseball player.  Our golf talent lies in WE CAN DRIVE THE CART REALLY WELL, and WE CAN CLAP FOR YOU AS QUIETLY AS POSSIBLE, EVEN THOUGH WHAT WE’D LIKE TO DO IS WHOOP AND CHEER LOUDLY.  (Hubs and I have learned that the enthusiastic whooping and cheering and waving of the big, foam #1 sports finger is frowned upon in golf.)

(Plus, no one ever shoots a T-shirt emblazoned with the high school’s name out of a cannon, into the crowd, when someone sinks a fantastic putt.)

(Oh, Golf… WHY?  Why do you have to be such a quiet sport?) 

And then…

… as if TWO letters his freshman year weren’t enough…

… our boy had a high school band concert on Tuesday evening, where he (with absolutely zero-point-zero contributions to his DNA ladder from either of his non-musical parents) lettered again.

So that makes three.

Our kid lettered three times…

… as a freshman.

Now, apparently, Hubs and I get to take out a small home loan (or perhaps remortgage the house) to buy him a Letterman’s jacket.  The price of a new North Face coat can’t hold a candle up to one of these bad boys.

And… do you want to know something else about this kid?  Well, a couple of days ago, he vacuumed our ENTIRE HOUSE, while I busied myself by folding forty-two loads of clean laundry that had been dumped straight from the dryer onto the dining room table.

Yes.  He’s fifteen, and he VOLUNTEERED to vacuum the entire house.  As in, ALL OF THE ROOMS.  He said he knew I was trying to clean up and fold clothes, and he OFFERED HIS HELP.

Add to all of this the fact that our boy is good and kind and funny and cooks as well as a famous chef and loves his people and Jesus, and… I’m telling you!… he’s a keeper.  Hubs and I are bursting with pride over him.

Way to go, Boy!!  Keep up the amazing work!

(I know.  I’m probably TOO nervous about stuff like this, but I had to block out his high school letter, which he’s actually holding in that snapshot up there.  The world is a weird place, and since the name of his school is emblazoned across the letter, and it’s very recognizable, it didn’t get to be featured here today, on the World Wide Web.)

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