Monday, May 5, 2008

my babe in boyland

No, this is not yet another post about my silly crushes. (I can hear the concern/borderline disdain [Hello, little sister of mine] in your comments; I will cease & desist for awhile, hoping to regain your trust in me as a sober, stable, non-stalking citizen). It is about my 9 1/2 year old son.

This afternoon, my boy suddenly announced from the backseat that he wanted to call a certain friend when we got home. She had given him her phone number last Friday. Would that be alright? he asked. Sure, I said. Thirty seconds of silence then, "Actually, can I use your phone right now? Because I remember her number." He rattled it off as proof (as if I had it memorized, too). We were about three minutes from home.

I handed him my cell and he called her. I heard him first say "Hello, this is Mason. Hi. I just thought I'd call because you gave me your number. But. Now I don't really know. What to say." I glanced in the rearview mirror to see him put his hand over his eyes while he spoke. It was heartstopping, listening to my boy innocently stammer into this conversation.

But they talked until I pulled into our driveway, then continued talking while Mason absently wandered toward the street instead of into the house. They talked as he strolled around the yard and living room and kitchen. Finally, he asked (while his friend was still on the phone) if she could come over after school Thursday. Of course. He had worked so hard, how could I say no?