Contagious

"As soon as May gets here, we're going to be playing Ultimate Frisbee all the time," With-a-Why announced the other night. He's about the seventh kid in the household to make that announcement.

Boy in Black's first year of college ends at the beginning of May, which means he will be living at home again. He's been playing on the Ultimate Frisbee team in college, going to practices and tournaments and learning all kinds of things, like this move called a lay-out, which involves slamming your whole body into a mud puddle in an attempt to get catch a frisbee while simultaneously getting every item of clothing as filthy as possible. I have no doubt that as soon as Boy in Black moves back home, he'll be holding frisbee practice here every evening, with his siblings, our extras, and anyone else who wants to play.

It's always been that way. When Boy in Black wants to master something, he concentrates intensely, practicing over and over, putting all his time and effort into that one thing, until he can do it well. All my kids have that ability to be focused like that, but with Boy in Black, the intensity is somehow contagious. Boy in Black gets obsessed with some kind of game or project, and all the kids in the household, his siblings and our extras and his friends, follow him.

It's happened with music, of course, but also with games like chess or Scrabble or poker. Whether Boy in Black decides to tape weird stuff to the ceiling fan or tack blankets over all the windows for a game of Monster or build a snow ramp in the front yard, he always has a group of loyal followers. Whatever activity he chooses becomes the main activity for the household for the next few weeks. Recently, he was showing the younger kids in the house how fast he could do the Rubik's cube, and next thing you know, they were all practicing frantically, trying to master the technique, until every little block of colour was worn around the edges.