Snippets: The Return of Boy

Man, it's been quiet around here. I might have fallen into a habit of talking to myself. Since Jim works the night shift (seemingly FOREVER) and Boy has been off paddling with the Scouts for two weeks, each night it's been me by my lonesome. On the one hand, I'm booking words with the new novel. On the other... well, talking to myself.

Boy actually returned to civilization on last Wednesday, at least within texting range. Last Thursday was his last day of travel back to steamy Illinois.

BOY: I'm gonna be in town around 1pm

ME: We'll buy milk *moo*

BOY: Can (BTG) be there when you pick me up? I have a present for her as well.

ME: Yes. Ooh ooh do I get a present do I?

BOY: Today is a gift. That is why it is called "the present."

ME: Smartass.

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For the purposes of this one, you need to know that Ted Mitchell is our insurance agent. We passed his office while driving in the car.

Boy: Ted Mitchell. You so confused me about him.

Me: What? How?

Boy: Remember there was that billboard on the road going out to the old storage facility, and we'd pass it and I'd ask who is Ted Mitchell, and you said, "The guy who takes our money."

Me: I never said that.

Boy: Yes you did.

Me: I have no memory of this.

Boy: So I grew up thinking he was like our banker or did our taxes or something. 

Me: But I like our insurance agent. They always worked hard for us and we get great rates.

Boy: I grew up confused because you were such a jokester. Remember the bag of Jack Daniels barbecue wood chips?

Me: The ones that took us forever to get through.

Boy: Yes. I asked you who Jack Daniels is, and you said, "He was a very great American."

Me: I did not.

Boy: Such a jokester.

Me: Did I really?

Boy: So I thought Jack Daniels was some kind of great American hero.

Me: Well now, to be fair...

Boy: I was so confused.

Me: It could've been worse. You could have been raised by a mom with no sense of humor.

Boy: Yeah, but at least things would've made sense.

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ME: Hey, you remember your little cousin Maddie?
BOY: Yeah. She's what, ten?
ME: Um. She just got her driver's permit.
BOY: Whaaaaat.
ME: That's what I said.
BOY: And I still don't have my license. Stare.*
ME: Shut up! I suck.
BOY: You do suck.
ME: You'll get your license someday. Probably.

Note: the reason Boy does not have his license yet is twofold. One: Illinois requires 50 hours of practice with a parent in the car, and I am so crazy busy (and so nervous with him behind the wheel) that we have barely gotten any practice time. Two: we can't afford the insurance hike. So he has a state ID instead of a license. For now.


* He actually said the word "stare." Smartass.