December 10, 2013: The Blonde Bomb
|The Blonde Bomb (a.k.a. Ben Lane)|
It was a bit of a shock to look at each day, but warm a reminder of the unity of the Skutt football team. Silly was the thought of the adults. Good karma was the thought of the boys. Obviously the boys won out. The hair followed them to the championship game.
The title win is now becoming a distant memory, but the hair remains. I have noticed other players with new buzz cuts or hair dyed back to their normal color. Not Ben. He is going to enjoy every inch of blonde until it grows out. He foresees no buzz in his future. The nickname sticks.
Ben's Muppet-like hair is fitting to his over-the-top personality. Although a football decision, I could easily see a changed hair color in Ben's future repertoire. The child has a expansive collection of colorful socks with a soft spot for shoes. Lots of them. And clothes galore; in every color and style. They line his closet and floor space.
I often tell Ben that he is my favorite blog subject. I will never run out of material. He loves this comment and asks that I repeat it in the company of his friends.
"Mom, tell them who your favorite is to write about in your blog."
And then he just beams. I do believe he will always be a kid at heart. And a disorganized mess, which is a language this organized mom struggles with. But then we find our common language in love and laughter.
The call to me before school this morning:
"Mom, you left me $20. That was really generous."
"No problem, Ben. But you do know that's for the whole week, right?"
"Yes, Ma'am. Love you!"
Note that the next call received from Ben was at the end of the day, coming from a random number. Ben was on the other line explaining how he got his phone taken away at school. This necessitated an urgent need for me to leave work early to pick it up. Ummm....No. The Blonde Bomb didn't like that answer. Three phone calls later, I opted to put my phone on silent.
Last weekend a large group of the blonde friends landed in my basement. I got a text asking me to come down and show my engagement ring. None of them picked up on the irony of their congratulating "Mrs. Lane". What is confusing to adults makes perfect sense to the seventeen year-old contingent. It is all good in their minds.
Ben brought up my writing and one boy commented that he heard I wrote good stories. Another asked who "Boy #2" was in a football blog I wrote. We had a nice discussion on character depictions. I thanked them for the kind words and for reading my blog. I will say it one more time; I love these boys. It will be awfully quiet next year when they're graduated.
And not only do they have good manners, they clean up after themselves. The Blonde Invasion can come to my house anytime.