Calling All Angels
Thanks Odd Todd for making me your Sunday Blogger. Welcome all of you fellow Odd Todd fans. Todd is a really cool guy. A couple of months ago, he sent in a reader testimonial when my agent search began. He said "Home Fires is real-life goodness that my mind ate up like a cupcake sandwich." That was by far the cutest testimonial I ever got. Besides being a cool guy, Todd has some of the funniest cartoons available on the internet.
He and I have ties through many people. He is a friend and fan of Dutch West TV, where I have been moonlighting. He is a buddy to my pal Deni. Another of our mutual friends is drawing the cover of my book. Plus I've "met" some very cool people via the Odd Todd TV Bored.
It's kind of like the six degrees of Todd Bacon or something like that. Anyhow, thanks Todd. For any of you readers who have never heard of him, please take a few minutes out of your day to checkout his cartoons. You won't be sorry.
On with today's post:
It happened. I tried to make it stop. It just wouldn't. My baby boy is now officially taller than me. I thought about buying clogs or platform shoes but it's time to face the truth. I even made the old man take the boy for a haircut, hoping on hope some of his height was in that dreaded Napoleon Dynamite hairdo. It helped a tiny bit but he is one quarter of an inch taller than me. Just one more indication my baby boy is growing up fast.
Friday night, my son, Lane 1 went to another school-sponsored dance. Since his return, our phone has been ringing off of the hook. I swear to god that kid must have been giving out business cards or something. (Finger gun, click, click, handsome guy smile) "Give me a call babe. We'll do lunch." A mother's mind is a bad scary place.
The dance was at another of the small neighboring schools. They call them filter schools because the students for many little communities all filter into one main high school. The dances are a way for the kids to interact and get to know each other before moving on to high school together.
When he got in the car, I began with the typical questions. He rolled his eyes in my general direction.
"Come on, son. It's my job to ask how things went."
"And bug me about who I danced with."
"I danced with everyone Mom."
We had a talk earlier in the day about girls. Not that talk. We had that one a long time ago. This one was about feelings and vulnerability. I told him this is a very difficult age for girls. I let him know that everything he says and does at this dance will be remembered for the rest of at least one girl's life. And I told him to be kind. If asked, say yes to a dance. It doesn't have to go any farther than a dance.
He opened up during the talk and said there is a girl named Jena who really likes him. "Every time she passes me in the hallway at school, she says, 'Hi Lane.' and then her face turns bright red. It's really cute."
I told him she would likely be the girl to remember this dance and him for the rest of her life.
"Yeah but no pressure, right Ma?!"
All of his classmates are beginning to date. So he was nervous about someone, specifically Jena, asking him to be boyfriend and girlfriend. I reminded him of my no dating until he is 16 rule.
Just about the time those eyes of his were thinking about rolling at me again, I said, "Think about what a great excuse that is to not be pressured into saying yes to date someone. 'Sorry. Can't date until I'm 16.' You don't have to worry about hurting anyone's feelings."
After the dance he admitted it was a good excuse. One he said he used four times. Since the dance, all four girls, and all of their closest friends have been calling. Hourly.