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Life at the speed of sons

Life is flying by. It seems like just yesterday I was holding my newly-born, chubby-cheeked son. Last weekend, that infant turned 18. In no time, we've gone from registering for diaper coupons to registering for the draft and to vote. I've gone from patting his little back to coax out burps to feeling like knocking him upside the head to infuse good sense. But there's no need to worry, he is catching on without the help of a clobbering, and in spite of his imperfect parents. I'm so proud of the man he is becoming.

I remember that stage of life, the one where it's time immediately to decide what you want to be when you grow up because you've got to put something in those blank spaces on applications. So I appreciate Leadership McDuffie and Norris Elementary's college and career day last month, and their efforts to encourage children to choose a successful path in life. When I covered the event and one of the adults working there told me that he didn't even know himself what he wanted to be when he grew up, I had to chuckle.

When I was a child, I knew without a doubt that I wanted to be a Mommy when I grew up. So I guess I have "arrived." However, I don't remember images of sons being in that picture. All of my baby dolls were girls, with hair that I lovingly curled and tied with ribbons, and pink dresses with eyelet trim. Now, my sons have curly hair, but it stays hidden beneath a ball cap. And the only pink that gets close to them is in a medium-rare burger.

Those dolls ate imaginary delicacies served on the floral dishes that made up my tea set. I don't ever remember having to scrub ketchup off the table at the end of those meals like I do now.

Thinking of delicacies on dainty dishes reminds me of the Daughters of the American Revolution meeting that I covered a couple of weeks ago. The keynote speaker was very late, so I was forced to pass the time by eating the refreshments. It was my first DAR meeting, and I didn't know the ladies were such good cooks. I do know they sponsor several events to further historical education. If a time comes that they want to change their call in life, I suggest they become chefs. Or, if they tire of historical essays, I hope they get the idea of printing a cookbook. Either way, I'll be their first customer. I might even bring my sons, if the menu includes ketchup.

Web posted on Thursday, October 18, 2007

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