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Tuesday, December 22, 2009

XVI

i thought i knew what it was to have a sixteen year old son. i figured it was pretty much the same as having a teenager only with complications. Sort of like Hemorrhoids and a case of poison oak. Then Happ (the fashionable son) went and passed his drivers' permit test. i knew the Ballyhoo gang had to celebrate this rite of passage of it's most fashionable member in true Ballyhoo fashion. So i collected Rascal and we plotted to greet Happ in a manner befitting the occasion as soon as the conquering hero emerged from his motor chariot. As we prepared our arsenal of snowballs we fleshed out our plans. "After he yells at us for messing up his new clothes we can all go out to dinner!"

"Yeah!"

The vision of a break in the holiday madness with a family night together danced in my head as my cell phone rang. Mynnie, (the pretty one) informed me that she would be dropping off our new driver at the restaurant where he and his buddies get Cheesesteaks every Tuesday.

Oh. Of course. He wishes to celebrate with his friends. Perfectly understandable. i hung up the phone and my dream of a family celebration and a traditional Ballyhoo Snowball Huzzah with an audible click. That's when i decided that now i knew what it was like to have a sixteen year old. It wasn't Hemorrhoids and rashes. It's more like dreaming of a steak dinner and getting a steak dinner. A Salisbury steak in a TV dinner.

Broken dreams and eight inches of snow don't mix so Rascal and i took our sleds and re-inflated our spirits in Carcass Basin. The hill is perfectly groomed and the pond frozen and disappointment cannot survive in the harsh glee of high speed runs across a frozen pond.

Time slurps on into the future, it is time to pick up Happ, so i venture out in Mynnievan to fetch him. He, not unexpectedly but not anticipated with delightedly, asks if he can drive home. To his surprise, i unexpectedly but received with much delightedly say, "sure."

Riding home. Trying to unclench my hands and keep my voice calm with the sensation of sitting in the dentist's chair with the needles, knives and skewers all laid in plain sight, i chuckle softly to myself, "no dummy, NOW you know what it means to have a sixteen year old son."

Saturday, December 19, 2009

Just like every year since year 34.

In path of the Nor'Easter, the soon to be trampled discussed their doom...

"So they're going to decide tomorrow whether or not they will have to cancel church," informed the Informed.

"Cancel Christmas? Wow!" remarked the cynic.

"A year without Santa?" questioned the incredulous.

"No no," soothed the cynic, "it will just be a year without Jesus."

"Oh," sighed the much relieved, "that's okay then."