My mother-in-law returned to our table at Panera Bread and told me, "Owen said he wouldn't use the air hand dryers in the bathroom."
"Nope," I replied, handing Joel another hunk of bread to devour, "He hates 'em."
"Too noisy," Owen agreed. He chewed thoughtfully, and then added, "Except for in truck stops. I LOVE hand dryers in truck stops."
My mother-in-law laughed until she cried, as I shook my head and wondered where the HELL Paul takes my son when I'm not around.
Truck stops? Really, Owen?
We had a fantastic New Year's Eve last night. A friend of mine had a party for kids. We started around three, and counted down to the "New Year" around six. My friends have a chair that spins all the way around AND a Hummer truck that sings, "Slow Ride." What else could a boy possibly want?
I laughed with my favorite people in the world, then drove home before the drunks hit the road. We tucked the kids in with enough time to watch Anderson Cooper laugh uncomfortably every time Kathy Griffin asked him about his "safe words."
"The flower finally fell down," Paul said. "It was only a matter of time."
My friend had given me a bulb for Christmas, and the thing grew like a sixteen-year-old boy, all floppy and gorgeously awkward. It reached upward as it bloomed, and toppled over its own weight. We leaned it against the hutch as a temporary measure, until moving it into the bathroom, under the skylight.
No stranger to magical thinking, Owen continues to ask us to write him lists. They list his hopes, as well as review his daily activities.
Just another day's work.
Happy Friday, every body! Thanks to Mrs. 4444 for hosting Friday Fragments!