On Monday night, we made our annual pilgrimage to the pumpkin patch in search of pumpkins, corn mazes, and the petting zoo. As we drove out to Country Mercantile, I found myself somewhat taken with the beauty of the evening, the way the sun was just hitting the tops of the mountains and the light was cast down around us. I felt so grateful for my family and all of the beauty I'm surrounded by. The outdoors smelled like Fall and it was one of those times when you feel so happy about your life that you think you might burst.
Spence interrupted my thoughts by telling Brad and I that his friend Jack wanted to come with us. (Spence has an imaginary friend named Jack; Hannah's is named Sampy. I have no idea.)
"Hey Spence," Brad says, "I have a friend named Jack too. Do you know what his middle name is?"
"No," Spence replies.
"It's Mehoff. You know, Jack Mehoff." Brad can hardly contain himself as he is now officially every 7th grade boy on the planet.
"Really?" Spence asks. "That's my Jack's middle name too."
Brad thinks this is even funnier.
"Hey buddy," I say "when you introduce people to Jack, just call him Jack, ok?"
I give Brad the look of death and tell him that he'll have to take the call when Spencer's teacher calls to complain but Brad finds it all to be innocent fun. Thinking this side journey through puberty was over, we head out into the pumpkin patch and have a great time. The kids love running around examining every pumpkin and I soon return to my Normal Rockwell dream, until we find ourselves standing at the corn maze watching the kids play and I notice that Spence is holding onto his handle, and by handle I mean the place found at the top of his two legs where is right hand permanently resides.
"Spence, do you need to go to the bathroom?" I ask quietly.
"No Mom, why?"
"Because your hand is there and unless you are actually peeing, your hand shouldn't be there" I say.
"Hey buddy, if you need a place for your hands and your not sure where to put them, just stick them in your pockets," Brad offers.
I am so pleased with this solid piece of advice coming from my pre-pubescent husband that I can hardly believe he's the same Mehoff man.
"That way," he continues, "if you need to adjust your wanky or your hands are cold, no one will know what you're doing."
Now I know why Brad likes teaching high school so much. He really is able to relate to his students because he has the exact same brain capacity as they do. Pre-teens: 5 points. Grown Men: 0.