First, just a couple of Riley...vocabulary...stories that amused us. (I know, it sounds weird....stick with me, though...) After one of his recent soccer games that ended in the evening, the very carefully-formulated dinner plan was best summed up as..."Not...Cooking." Happily, the timing coincided with Riley's big triumph in the highly competitive WestEnders NCAA Tournament bracket, for which the coveted prize is: choosing a restaurant for a dinner out. Thus we were beginning earnest discussions about where to take our hungry selves for sustenance...when Riley revealed that he wasn't really in the mood for a celebratory meal.
You see, his team hadn't played particularly well, and he was feeling a little down about his own performance on the field. However, this didn't change the fact that the rest of us were famished...and neither Husband or I felt keen on the idea of whipping up something in the kitchen at home. So we convinced him that the thing that would cheer him up fastest would definitely be dining at "fill-in-your-choice-of-eatery here". Bless his little pea-pickin' heart, he chose the newly-opened sushi place a mile from our house...where we all enjoyed some delectable Asian yumminess. Afterwards I commented how it was a good thing we hadn't canceled our plans because of his temporary funk, and Riley agreed thoughtfully, "Yeah. I'm glad you dissuaded me." You got it, honey...I'm sorry, what? (Yep, that was one of his alarmingly frequent 11-going-on-college sounding moments...)
Then the other night after an apparently tough day at the old Salt Mines--I mean "Middle School"--he was lying in bed, snuggled up in a soft, fuzzy throw blanket, clutching a stuffed frog, playing a couple of rounds of Stickman Hockey on his Kindle. He looked every bit the pre-teen boy, settled in his cozy lair, when I stopped by to check on him. Gazing up at me woozily from his cocoon he stated, "This is how I achieve...Nirvana!" Oh boy. I don't know where he gets this stuff....
Then there's Derek, who is morphing into quite the high school social butterfly. (Or, you know, whatever the male equivalent would be...) It seems to have become a new tradition that on Fridays after he's released from academia, he stops by his home watering hole for a typical snack (pretzels...cheese stick...fruit...yogurt....trail mix...no, not "some of those", ALL of them) before joining his buddies for a pickup soccer game, followed by a gathering at one of their houses to film a silly video of themselves improvising...goofy...teenage boy antics.
Often he doesn't even come home for dinner--presumably someone else's parents throw food at the ravenous pack at some point so they remain at least semi-civilized. As he so aptly summed it up as we were driving somewhere one day, "Friday's coming...that's when I ditch you guys to go hang out with my friends." I must have given him a stern look out of the corner of my eye because he added with a shrug, "Hey, I'm in high school...it's what I do!" Don't get me wrong...I'm soooo glad he's found a neighborhood posse (of what appears to be very nice, smart, athletic guys) to pal around with...and that he's already making the most of his precious high school years. But, on the other hand...my B-AAAA-B-YYYYYY is growing up! (Sighhhhhh...)
As for me, I actually got to be a grownup this week, too...when I was contacted for my first ever telephone interview. And let me tell ya, for someone who's typically not terribly fond of Alexander Graham Bell's invention, this was especially nerve-wracking. It felt like it went well, but who knows? So to keep myself from going bonkers while waiting for news, I escaped to the Botanical Gardens to stroll among the colorful blooms on a sparkling Spring Friday. Now it's time to decompress--heyyyyy, I say we declare it Mother's Day...weekend! That's it, I'm gonna start requesting the Queen Treatment...Right. About. NOW! (Is it working? Is someone bringing my fruity cocktail? Clearly, I've gotta train my minions...um, "family"...better if I want this to work...)
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