This afternoon, when I picked Shaggy Hair and Boy in Black up from school, I noticed that they had abandoned their heavy winter coats, the ones with the ski slope tags dangling from the pockets, in favor of black hoodies. The afternoon sun was so strong, warming up the whole inside of the car, that I rolled my window down. As we pulled into the driveway, I heard the noise that means spring in this part of the world: the trilling and singing of the peepers.
"Hey! The spring peepers!" I said excitedly.
"I already knew it was spring," Shaggy Hair Boy said, opening the car door. "We switched from snowboarding to basketball. And frisbee."
"But listen! The spring peepers! Isn’t that exciting?"
Boy in Black tossed his hair out of his eyes and gave me a look. "Not really, Mom."
He picked up his backpack and headed for the door, "But you can put it on your blog."
12 comments:
hee. (not)exciting...is it bloggable? :)
Peepers are VERY exciting. Heck. I'm even excited by the melt here.
Heee Hee Heee! They really are boys. That's pretty funny. I'm excited about your tree peepers even if teenage boys aren't.
Our "spring peepers" are a huge flock of robins that try to fly under our car as we drive down the cul-de-sac... I hit one last year and drove it to the vet's, sobbing, until he gave it a shot of steroids and released it in the morning. Apparently, it hadn't broken anything, just gotten a mild concussion.
Joe, the reason our Edinburgh tickets are one way is that we will be there for four years, attending vet school!
Blogging: one of those dorky mom things, like jeans with front pleats.
Damn, this is so my future, isn't it?
Rob: So what does it mean that you are doing a dorky mom thing? You are an enlightened male?
Phantom: Yep.
I pretty much got the same reactions from my son. Once, though, when he was really young, before I had the accident, he and I went up on top of one of the huge hills that are mountain like, and hiked around. We kept hearing this sound and I said I think it's a wild turkey and so we sat and waited and waited and barely did we breathe and finally a rustling in the bushes and out on the trail came a couple of turkeys. Wild turkeys are so beautiful. Their feathers are brown and they have all these rustic colors to match their surroundings and their tail feathers are like a giant fan and their beard is so beautiful. We sat there, not moving, waiting for them to notice us and fly away, but they didn't, instead, they began to breed. My son, whispered, "What are they doing?" I said, "Remember the really close thing that mamas and daddys do to make babies." The Good Son said, "Gross." But we both watched and just like my son's father, it was over in a few seconds. I said, "A walk down memories lane." The Good Son said, "You've done this before." I laughed and said, "Not exactly." Ahhhh, the fond memories of motherhood.
Jo(e): I just like dorky moms. I only hang out at this blog for the MILFy goodness.
Younger Daughter told me recently that she thought it was "cute" that I get so excited about dorky mom stuff. She was referring to the rainbow that spun around our living room, courtesy of a crystal hanging in a window.
I've had pretty much this conversation with my father. "Oh, so now you're probably going to put that on your blog, aren't you?" So, what does it mean when you're doing something that your father thinks is dorky?
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