Wednesday, October 27, 2004


Every afternoon, for roughly an hour, between 2:30 and 3:30, I am in the company of 5 young men. Three 14 year olds and two 10 year olds.
“Man, I had this awful dream once.” Jon shares with Nate and Max. “I was some place where there were lots of other people and I had on only my underwear. I kept trying to find something to cover myself with. It was scary. I didn’t want anyone to see me. I kept pulling stuff over myself, but I never got covered.”
He’s earnest and serious as he talks about his dream.
“Dude. I can’t believe I once had a dream like that too!” Max exclaims, astonished by the coincidence that him and Jon would both have similar nightmares. “What are the chances?”
“So man, what was yours?” Jon asks.
“I was like, in the cafeteria, and it felt cold. I was standing in line. Like, waiting for my turn to order. And I looked down. Holy crap. Dude. I had no clothes on.”
“No way.”
“Way. I didn’t know what to do. No clothes on! Couldn’t find nothing to put over myself. I kept looking down and I was naked, man.”
“That’s so like my dream. Freaky.”
“I had a dream last night too.” I offer.
“In my dream, Ben Affleck was the hiring manager for Campus Crusade. He was conducting my interview. After unrestrained mutual flirting, he asked me to join him in Africa as a missionary.”
“Whadya say to him, mom?” Max asked.
“Heck ya. His God was my God, his people were my people. I’d follow him to the ends of the earth.”
“Hmmm” came from the backseat.
“But, somehow, I worked out a deal that I’d be back every afternoon for carpooling.”
“Man, even in your fantasies you’re a slave to the schedule, eh Mrs. O.”

What an insightful, intelligent observation. These boys are a wonder. A pleasure to chauffeur.

We pulled into the elementary school and slowed down just enough for Matt and Drew to hop in. With the sun shining, the music playing and the afternoon ahead of them, they were all in bubbly moods. Crossing in front of us, was a gym teacher carrying a net-bag full of glossy blue rubber bouncy balls.
“Hey! Nice balls!” one of them yells from the backseat as the others all burst with uproarious laughter.
“Nice balls…heh heh… oh man….”
“Nice balls. Dude – that’s so funny…”
“That was perfect. SO funny.”
“Man. I can’t believe how funny I am. Nice balls. Man.”

What an immature, retarded comment. These boys are normal. A joy to transport.

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