Yesterday, the Tall Kid finally dragged himself out of bed and the first thing he said was “What day is it?”. All at the same time, he got this response from the family:
Yeah. Summer vacation means never knowing what day it is. If I’m given a second to remember what I watched on television the night before, I usually get it right, but I haven’t been really paying attention to the TV and my husband’s been watching stuff from the DVR I don’t have a lot of interest in. (Chaos, which isn’t too bad, and Rookie Blue, which I don’t care for.) And my husband only got it right because he’d seen the neighbors garbage cans and remembered it was trash day.
Speaking of the Tall Kid, he turns sixteen a week from tomorrow. Sixteen. I feel a case of the vapors coming on.