Thursday, July 31, 2008

Boys 2 Men

Seth's best friend spends a lot of time at our house. He's kind of one of the boys, but I always tend to have extra boys, so that's fine. These two have been compadres since they were babies of a few months, sitting on Zoe Martinez in the church nursery. They even look a little bit alike.

When Seth was little, he put a pair of scissors in the dining room outlet. I came downstairs, and tried to turn the lights on. I couldn't figure out why they wouldn't work, when Jill says -- without ever looking up, mind you -- "oh, it hasn't worked since Seth put the scissors in that outlet." He was about two. This was the same age at which his buddy, Chris, cut a table lamp's cord in half with scissors, while it was on. Sparks flew, and Chris' eyes got really big, but not as big as the two mothers who were there at the time.

Chris threw Buzz Lightyear down the toilet, Seth put peas up his nose. Chris cut his arm at the river, Seth got a gash in the head in Sunday School. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised when Seth came up with an imaginary friend named Chris. "Mom," he'd shout, rather frantically, "don't sit on Chris Smith," whenever we would try to sit next to him. When we'd take off in the car, he'd tell me, "don't take off, Mom, Chris Smith isn't buckled in."

As if I needed anything else to make me think I might just be losing my marbles.

Nowadays, these boys are just two big blonde dorks who play video games and never change their clothes until they're good and ripe. And dorks they are. Today, Chris was sitting next to me, watching TV. Seth came up behind him and was trying to ask him something, when Chris retorted that he was in the middle of something, and to be quiet for a minute. Seth's response? Typical Sethanese: "oh, if you're thinking, I'll leave you alone. Just let me know when you're done."


And so, in honor of the two little delinquents in the slow lane to manhood, check out this vintage 50s Arrow shirt, from my gal Kim, at Fast Eddie's Retro Rags, on ebay. It'll get the sparks flying.

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