Thursday, July 1, 2010


maria helping b.g. with the toy mower

Okay, this is both funny and disturbing.

(Anybody ever known any teenage boys? God help us.)

Well, Maria told me about this conversation she overheard between Jay and James.

Little Jay was complaining, "I hate it when I take a shower and have to dry off with frickin' hand towels."


James agreed, and said HE hated it worse when he had to use those towels off the floor that smelled nasty.


Apparently, in the bathroom they use, which has a big pink porcelain tub that's extra deep and a pink sink and toilet, very lovely... there are problems. They never bring the damned towels to get washed! And I wander to that bathroom only about once every couple weeks. Occasionally I clean it, but they're supposed to. (Be afraid, I'm thinking.)

the two of them, last weekend. they smelled okay.

So I started hollering, as fastidious middle-aged women will. I hollered why on earth can they not scoop up an armful of their own towels and run a load of wash? What could be the meaning of this? They're not stupid. They're fairly ambitious as teenagers go. (insert incredulous ranting)

Little Jay said, "Calm yourself Mother. That's what I did. All the towels are clean now. It's fine."

But still, the idea of him, 6'5", drying himself with the HAND TOWELS? I'm...I'm...umm, just so...

But then we had this conversation a little later. Maria wanted Jay to give her a ride to Fantastic Sam's for a hair cut. (I could do it, but not today. My hands were full. We had b.g., plus Kari had a friend here.) He looked pained. I teased her, "I told her I'd cut her hair, but that suggestion was rejected."

Little Jay said, "I'll do it. I know how. First you gotta lay your hair out flat here on the cupboard," and he smoothed the tile counter top with his hands.


Maria made a noise and covered her hair with her hands.

Anyway, he drove her and the haircut is adorable. Here's a pic of her on the patio this afternoon, playing with b.g. As she chirped at him and encouraged him driving the car she told me, "He makes me nervous. He's such a little daredevil." He was too, trying to stand up by use of a basketball, thinking about splashing in the dog water, trying to put sticks in his mouth...

I felt very weird this afternoon late, when I looked at him and this sweet baby was actually dirty. Dirty! His round little feet were grubby. He was crawling in and out of the tent, and sitting in the sandbox, fascinated by watching the sand run out of his fist. Where did that little baby of last Christmas go?

Amazing. Is he going to be a teenager someday who'll dry himself with hand towels or nastified old stinky towels from the FLOOR? (cringing) Ei-yi-yi love, Val

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