Dawn Is Me

Most eight year old boys have friends who come over.

Not our Ricky. Nope.

R: Mama, can my customer Toby come in?

DIM: Customer? You have customers?

R: Yeah. Can he come in?

DIM: How much money are you making?

R: Huh?

DIM: Never mind. :::sigh:::

Ricky brought a girl home today.

Not the first time … except this particular girl was 14 or 15 years old.

She is evidently one of the friends he has made from among the teenagers who hang around the basketball court at the park. I’m not clear about why he dragged her here. Then again, she didn’t seem to know why he dragged her here either, so I don’t feel too bad about not being able to figure it out.

As a matter of fact, I thanked her for humoring my incomprehensible 8-year-old Casanova. For some reason, she thought that was funny.

What was funnier was Gino. He was torn between trying not to upset my feminist sensibilities and he very natural desire to gloat. He stood there teasing Christine like he does with all the little girls he meets, but he was grinning all over his face with this That’s my boy! face — what a riot.

I do have to say, though, that this little episode sort of makes me wonder what it’s going to be like around here when he is Gina’s age and is our source for As the Teens Turn.

Scary thought, huh?

Ricky just went storming past me, in tears, on his way upstairs.

Me: What’s the problem?
Ricky: It’s not fair! I always have to be the first one to take my bath!
Me: That’s because you’re the youngest, dear.
Ricky: But that’s not fair! I’m always going to be the youngest! Even when I’m a teenager, I’m always going to have to take my bath first.
Me: Ummm … no, when you’re a teenager, I’m not going to be telling you when to take a bath. By then, I hope you’ll have enough sense to arrange your own schedule.
Ricky: (suddenly, miraculously stops crying) Oh, okay.

Occasionally, they really are easy to please. Score one for Mom.