Saturday, March 19, 2011

Bend it. Like Trot.

The boys both had soccer games this morning, and since I was at work and had to miss it, Ang promised to send me texts with updates on the happenings. About 11:30 while I was out on the floor with a customer, I missed the following series of texts.


"Rakes just scored an AMAZING goal!" (Apparently, according to Rakes, "He went BAM, the ball went WHOOSH, and the goalie went BOOF and I scored!")"

"Ted Call Me."

"Trot just mooned the whole team. He's YOUR son."

I finally texted back.

"Good Lord."

The scary thing? He's only 4. What in God's name is he gonna be like when he's 16?


Tex said...

I'm sure he'll be voted Class Clown every year in high school

Ted D said...

Of that I have no doubt.

Rich in the Garage said...

He'll mellow out with time.

Or it'll get worse.

either way things wont be like they are now, though only through one outcome is your sanity going to remain in tact.

Ted D said...

Somehow that doesn't make me feel better, Jr.

Dewey said...

He'll be like my Kevin was at 16. Endlessly kind, loving and entertaining....though the local police didn't agree all the time. Sleep with you clothes on and the keys to the car in your pillow case. My friend Aimee taught me that trick to keep him from joy riding w/o a license.

Dewey said...

Where the hell have you been, Rich?

Ted D said...

Aimee is wise, Dewey.