Tuesday, February 22, 2011

My opportunity to rename the boy.

Today at the gym I learned how to play Cutthroat, which is essentially racquetball played with three people. I played with a borrowed, partially broken racquet. And without my glasses. Entertainment is cheap here—just visit my gym.

The guy who taught my friend, Cari, and I is really, REALLY good, and he was obviously taking it very easy on us, but every once in a while one of us accidentally made a good shot so we each wound up with four points to his fifteen. But like I said, I was without my glasses so I'm not feeling too bad about it. One of these days I'm going to take my camera just to prove I'm really on a racquetball court, which is something I never thought I'd do. Kind of like jumping off a bridge into the Buffalo River with my children.

Now here it is, almost 5 pm. I've worked some, done a little laundry, watched Man-boy do the dishes (his idea), and made a pot of Salmon Chowder so the house smells like bacon and salmon. What could be better? I was supposed to go get our taxes done tonight, but the accountant's husband called to say she was coming down with the flu and could she call to reschedule. I wonder if we can do taxes over the phone . . . I don't want to get near her for a month now.

So when I walked in the kitchen while Man-boy was doing the dishes, he turned around and said, "Mom, after my 18th birthday, what are you going to call me?"

My first thought was, "Does your name change when you turn 18? I'll call you Elijah, just like I have since you were born." But I must have looked at him with that deer-in-the-headlights look, because he continued, "You won't be able to call me Man-boy anymore."

Hm. Apparently Man-boy's name will need to change on May 9th. I'll have to think about that. Any suggestions?

Be thankful ~



Catherine said...

Why are you playing racquetball with a partially broken racket, woman???? Get thee to a store and get a racket that won't contribute to injuries.

And I just want you to know that I still call my kids by their childhood nicknames (including the 24 year old who is known as "pookie"). No one objects, and if asked, I would plead old age and say that I couldn't change my ways now. Age does have its privileges.


Anonymous said...

And he is the baby of the family and will have to carry that name FOR-E-VER.