What I don’t like to talk about very often is that we are now smack in the middle of our sophomore year of high school. And by WE, I really mean THE BOY. THE BOY is smack in the middle of his sophomore year of high school, because Bon Jovi, Debbi Gibson and leather bomber jackets are a thing of the past, so I would have no idea how to navigate the hallways of Small Town High right now. This pretty much translates into the fact that there are now a very finite amount of mornings that the boy will shuffle out of bed to shower and head off to school, while he’s still living in my house.
Don’t even get me started.
And then the boy took that PSAT test this year, just to SEE what kind of score he might be close to grabbing onto when he takes the actual SAT. He managed to score in the 95th percentile, nationwide. He got none of his brains from his mother, because all I know how to do is put periods and commas and semicolons in the right places. I can keep pronouns singular when they need to be, and I can tell the differences between a hyphen and a dash. I can no longer calculate any enormous, formula-using problem, and the only chemistry I do is adding oregano and basil to a pot of boiling, bubbling broth once in a while.
After his test scores came back, our mailbox started to fill up.
We have college after college after STINKING COLLEGE sending the boy envelopes crammed with pamphlets and letters and COME TALK TO US lines of encouragement. The boy’s email in-box is exploding with college solicitations, and I basically want to sit down and cry.
WHEN did we go from jumping around the front yard, twirling a light saber with authority, to getting applications for universities? When we get the mail from the colleges, I simply stand above the garbage can and say things like, “TOSS THIS ONE; IT’S TOO FAR FROM HOME,” and “TOSS THAT ONE, BECAUSE I DON’T LIKE THE LOOKS OF THEIR PAMPHLET,” and “HAWAII? SERIOUSLY? HAWAII??!! It will take me hours of flying and six entire bottles of Dramamine to get to you! Toss it!”
When the boy walks into the kitchen and asks what I’m up to, I just tell him, “Oh… you know… throwing some junk mail sent from Hawaii away. Who needs beaches and palm trees, when we have all this luxurious SNOW?!”
He’s none the wiser that he’s being asked to consider Hawaii. Why would he be? I’m totally homeschooling him for college, and I feel like it’s my duty right now to shelter him from the siren’s call of sandy beaches.
I had no point in all of this, except to say that the people you considered OLD when you were a young whippersnapper, getting married and having babies, knew exactly what they were talking about when they announced, “They grow up so quickly.”
In other words, the moral of this story is to listen to the old people, for they are a wealth of wisdom, except when they say things like, “No one has been able to replace Lawrence Welk on the television set.”
In other news, I got a pedicure this afternoon.
It was the first pedicure I’ve had in over two years, which means the tools were gathered up from the stable, as my nail technician needed the hoof trimmers. Thankfully, my nail technician is also a good friend of mine, so we sat and talked and laughed, while my feet soaked in an acid solution that takes forty years of callouses off your feet and makes you feel like you’re twenty again.
My toenails are all an electric pink right now, that pays homage to all the neon in the ’80s. I felt it was an appropriate color for such tasks as throwing college pamphlets from North Dakota away, because GAH! YOU THINK IT’S COLD HERE??!!
We wrapped up our day today with a matinee. Somehow, the memory of the last movie we hauled Thing 2 into the theater to see has become a blur that I couldn’t remember (probably because I blacked out at some point), so I thought we could surely handle another such outing. The boy and I stood in line to buy our preschooler a little box of popcorn, which was supposed to come with a small candy bar, but which ended up coming with FRUIT CHEWY SNACKS.
The devastation was a real thing, as Thing 2 announced to the teenager behind the concession counter, “I don’t want these! These aren’t real candy! I want real candy!” She assured him that the winds of change were upon us, for health reasons, and the kid pack now comes with artificially-flavored fruit snacks, that have half the sugar as a candy bar.
And then she filled his kiddie cup to the brim with 7-Up.
We saw the movie Sing, and honestly, I loved it. Thing 2 loved all the popcorn and his soda and the singing. When the cartoon characters were NOT singing, Thing 2 loved crawling all over my lap and asking big questions, like “When are we going home?” and “Can I buy some real candy now?”
And now! LOOK AT THE TIME! It’s pretty much 7:30 in the evening, which means I need to brush a four-year-old’s teeth, rinse the dirt off of him, stuff him into some clean pajamas, and rock him to sleep.
Don’t judge me because he’s nearly five and I still rock him to sleep in the rocking chair EVERY!! SINGLE!! NIGHT!!
This time next month, Hawaii will probably be contacting him, to see if he’d be interested in attending their college on a surfing scholarship. Time whips by entirely too quickly, and I’ll rock that boy to bed until he no longer fits in my lap.
Y’all have a good weekend.