The Tarp is on the Field.

I think I'm going to equip my saint of a Mother with a portable camera and microphone. She picks up Trot from school 4 days a week and then watches the kids until Ang gets home from work, and her "conversations" with Trot usually verge on the surreal.

A couple of weeks ago it went like this:

Trot: "Nanny, did you hear about the tornado that picked up that house in Elon and dropped it in South America?"

Nanny: "South America?"

Trot: "Yeah. You know; it's on the map."

Today, she called me to relay the latest. Thank God she has a healthy sense of humor.

Trot: "Nanny, when you die who is going to pick me up from school?"

Nanny: "I don't know, Trot. But I hope it's a REALLY long time from now."

Trot: "Nope. One more birthday for you and that's it."

I keep telling myself that there is a chance one day he'll come up with a cure for cancer or invent some new machine or maybe even become President.

But deep down I know he'll end up videoing himself shooting bottle rockets out of his butt or lighting farts on fire or in the best case scenario?

He'll be like his Dad and marry WAY over his head, have a couple or three kids and spend the next 20 years taking it day by day and just trying not to screw anyone or anything up too bad.

Rain Delays make me introspective.

Sue me.