maturity angles…

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Wednesday night I had an enjoyable time eating dinner with my father. He has declared that for some reason, I make the best farmers omelet in the family. Frankly, I think I’m just the only one who makes him farmer omelets on a regular basis. While there, my eldest sister Terri called and after checking in with our father, spent the next hour talking  with me about my kids.

“How’s the boy doing in school?” She asked. “He’s doing great. This Junior year is shaping up to be his best year yet,” I said and then spent the next several minutes rehashing several of the stories I’ve  recently written about here before moving on to talk about the doll’s epic sleepover last weekend. Toward the end of our conversation, as we began wrapping things up, she said something I wasn’t expecting to hear, “Marsh, it sounds to me like the boy is finally maturing“.

Say what?

Come again?

I’m sorry, what did you say?

My boy?

What?

Her words “finally maturing” slowed down so much over the telephone line that my brain lost focus on what she actually said. Recovering I replied, “Well, I wouldn’t go that far…”which allowed both of us a good laugh before exchanging pleasantries and wishing the other goodnight.

******

On the drive to school this morning, it occurred to me I cannot remember the last time I asked the boy if he remembered to put on his deodorant. In fact, now every morning he takes a shower, washes his hair and applies the deodorant–without any prompting from me. Heck even last night I watched him trim his fingernails (over a garbage can no less!!) of his own fruition.

Say What?

Come Again?

I’m sorry, what?

Could my sister be correct? Could he finally be maturing….?

Nah…

Well, maybe.

Sigh, he is almost 17…

Sigh, my baby is almost grown…

But wait, he is a boy and so there will always be a modicum of immaturity lingering around him.

Okay then.

 

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