... NOT of handsome, like he thinks. And I am not being mean.
My iPod is shiny and pink.
The preceding statements were made as a result of Andy's suggestions for blog topics. "Write about how awesome your oldest son is, and that his hair is a nest of handsome!"
Ha. He is awesome but his hair is simply... strike that; it's not simple. It's a mess. His hair is a complicated, gnarly mess. I got called mean for saying so, and he threatened to say mean things about me on his blog (http://cw3andy.edublogs.org/). "Like what? My roots are showing? I need a trim?" Both are true, neither are mean, and neither was his comeback: "Like... your iPod is shiny and pink." We both just laughed. He's a goof.
I thought about blogging on hair, but there is nothing interesting in hair news around here. We all need haircuts, and that's not news. I thought about blogging about Andy, but he's awesome and that's not news either.
I read Andy's creative writing blog (see link above) and that was interesting. So I'm blogging about blogs. I was reading the "mass of ridiculousness" that goes on in his head, and in many teens' heads these days. It is strange to think that this creative, goofy young man is the same child who, at age three, wanted to be an attorney during the week and play baseball for the Yankees on the weekends. He doesn't even like baseball now. What a dozen years will do!
When I see his friends who he grew up with, I feel like I am meeting new people. The faces are similar... Mike still has a baby face, and Pat-man will always be Pat-man, but they are so mature now. They aren't the same goofy kids who used to race around the yard before cub-scout meetings. (Heaven knows, they could all do with a little racing around these days.) They don't giggle like they used to. Now they have private jokes and teen talk... bone saws and band names that I've never heard of. I find my son's blog, and those of his classmates and friends, fascinating yet odd. There are meanings here that I will never know, since I will never be of his generation.
I read their writing and reflect on my own. My thoughts: I'm forty and not so deep any more. I do write those feelings from my childhood, but I don't dare go back to my adolescence. It scares me. I have my journals to take me back to those days if I feel so inclined. I prefer to go back to an earlier, happier time--when I was running around and playing before my girl-scout meetings. I much prefer the middle-grade mindset. I connect to some facet of that age group much better than I do to these older, odd-ball teenagers. (Could be just my son and his friends that I don't relate to. It's probably just me.)
Too bad middle-graders don't blog.