Saturday, June 02, 2012

My Alarmingly Large and Increasingly Grown-Up Son

My older son -- whom I'm still calling Thing 1 for the purposes of this blog, though I probably should ask him if I should use his name or some other alias at this point -- is currently at his Eighth Grade Dance as I type. He got all gussied up -- wearing a shirt of mine, an old blazer of mine, and an "eight-bit" tie of his very own that was a Christmas present -- and was dropped off at his school by The Wife an hour or so ago.

That's him right there, looking startlingly mature and serious, and I only hope he's not breaking too many hearts at the dance this evening.

On the other hand, I remember my own Eighth Grade Dance, back far too long ago to be precise, and how the one thing I really participated in was an air guitar competition. I pinwheeled so vigorously that my glasses flew off of my face. Repeatedly. I was not then smart enough to simply fold the things up and put them in a pocket, or perhaps not willing to be that blind. Still, I'm pretty sure my son won't do anything quite that dumb this evening. Or maybe I mean that he won't tell me if he does anything that dumb, which is close enough.

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