oh yeah, creative minds

our most excellent friend

Okay, our friend was scheduled to come here tonight to hang out with us while his parents go out for dinner with Dan and Alicia, and John and Dannell.

The kids were thrilled, haven't seen him in about a month, much happiness. I used it as an excuse for them to clean up their rooms, and they ran off gathering up dirty dishes, and straightening up the rooms upstairs.

Okay, but Tim has basketball practice tonight, so all at once he didn't want to go. Couldn't he please, please, please, please skip?

"Well. I dunno. You already missed a couple practices. We hate for you to miss another one." This conversation went around for a little while, no definite answer.

He didn't say anything, left the kitchen, dejected shoulders, big frown.

In a little while he came running back through the family room and vomited.

Vomited! He had the flu last weekend! We thought he was better. Now he's vomiting??

Jay said, "Well I guess that answers the question about basketball. I wonder why he's sick again?"

We questioned him a little more and I considered whether or not to call our friend and tell him he shouldn't come--he might catch the flu.

Then there's Tim in my room, looking foolish. "I didn't really vomit. I faked."

I thought he was making that up because he didn't want the friend canceled entirely, basketball or not.

"How could you fake vomit? That doesn't even make any sense."

"Easy. Just chew up some food and take a big bunch of water and then spit it out in the next room."

Okay, that's just...um...I don't even know what to say. This is a desperate man, doing something so outrageous. Out in the kitchen, Heidi and Joe rolled their eyes. His dad was incredulous, snickering madly.

I thought about it a little while and then wondered if the friend could sleep over, if that might make basketball more palatable?

He was in his room on the bed looking depressed. I asked him what he thought of that idea, and he said that was a great idea.


Sheesh. Friend sleeping over, problem solved. The friend's mom heard this story and said, "Woooow. Yes. I think he'd better sleep over."

But here's the thing. Back when Tim was small, he scared me a little because I could never anticipate what he might do. He doesn't think like I do at all. It's always a baffling surprise.


He's the only kid we had a bungee cord on the refrigerator for. Yep, he'd go in there and crack eggs and take out meat, and squirt the mustard. He pushed a chair up to the washing machine while it was filling, while I was fetching the clothes, and he threw in cans of Mountain Dew. I didn't see them under the suds. He fiddled with plug ins--we still have the lamp with the black cord down in the basement. He flushed toothbrushes and matchbox cars, all the while looking completely innocent.



Anyway, Tim, I am so darn glad you're here. Nobody else could ever be you. Nobody. Ever. Thanks for being our kid. love you so, Mom