Last night at Dracen's game (he's playing fall baseball) he got a base hit and was on first already thinking of stealing second when Charlie overheard the first base coach telling him to wait for his instruction. After he had already taken off and stolen second, the coach then turned to a spectator on the other side of the fence and said, "You gotta watch that one." Charlie was laughing when he told me what he'd just heard because you have no idea, brother... no i-dea!
Before we left for the game he came out of his room in his Orioles uniform (black with orange accents) and clomped into the living room with his cleats on, knowing full well he is not supposed to have the cleats on in the house. When Charlie reminded him, what did he do? Jumped up on the door frame, one cleat-ed foot on each side of it. As if that was somehow better than having the cleats on the floor.
He then went outside for all of 30 seconds before bursting back through the door shouting, "THIS IS SALMON! THIS IS SALMON!" And no, not the fish. The color. He was referring to the spandex-ish long-sleeved shirt I'd found at Old Navy last week for him to wear underneath his uniform on chilly nights. And it was.so.not.salmon. It was the exact color orange that's in his shirt, belt and socks though he swore to me it looked salmon outside in the sunlight.
"So take it off then!", I shouted back. And that he did.
Sweet mercy, that child of mine is "spirited".
But although that spirit wears me slap out on most any given day, I love that he is the way he is. Unlike his brother and me, you rarely have to wonder what is going on in that head of his because he will not hesitate to fill you right in on whatever happens to be eating at him.
Devin, though he is not quite the extreme introvert as I, is mostly just the opposite.
Normally when I pick him up at school, he has very little (if anything at all) to say before popping in his earbuds. But today he had something he deemed important enough to get off his chest... "I'm not going to be able to get my license until way late!"
"Come again?", I replied.
He went on with his attempt to explain how he is not allowed to take drivers ed until he's 14 and a half and so he can't get his permit until....and yeah, so...wait...no, yeah, it'll be like halfway through junior year before he can get his license what with that July birthday and all.
(The nerve of me to give him a summer birthday. Gah!)
I was so completely lost and not understanding a word he was throwing at me. While I think he's confused, I must confess that, if he isn't, delaying this whole parent-of-a-teenage-boy-driving thing does not sound like an entirely bad deal to me.
I'm just saying,